


with friends like these

by RecklessWriter



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Gen, Good Akatsuki (Naruto), Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, Uchiha Itachi Being a Good Brother, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, but not really, more like morally grey akatsuki, someone give itachi an aspirin, they're a bunch of dumbasses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessWriter/pseuds/RecklessWriter
Summary: “I’m from the future—seven years in the future.”There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Itachi’s face is unreadable as he stares at Sasuke.“You’rewhat?” he finally says.Sasuke travels back in time to stop the war. He infiltrates the Akatsuki in order to kill them - he doesn't expect to take a page out of Naruto's book and befriend them instead.
Relationships: Akatsuki & Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke, Hoshigaki Kisame & Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 260
Kudos: 1425
Collections: Marinara_Faves, Mixed_Fics, tobirama's archives





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I have a lot of in-progress stories posted already. I've decided to post this one because I've had the first two chapters finished for a while, and have simply been holding off on posting it.
> 
> I was going to start posting this story after I finished Frayed Truths. However, I've been in a bad place in regards to my mental health lately, and I think posting this and getting feedback from my readers will help cheer me up. So I've decided to post it a bit earlier than I planned.
> 
> (Plus, it's only four chapters, so unlike all my longer stories, it won't consume a lot of my time.)
> 
> I'm going to try to start writing the next chapter of _Frayed Truths_ soon, and hopefully the comments I get on this will motivate me. I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter, because it's over 10,000 words and I'm pretty sure it's the longest chapter I've ever written for anything ;p

It begins with three teenagers—three _war veterans_ —standing in the cemetery in front of the Memorial Stone.

Sasuke glances up at the cloudless sky above them. It feels like a mockery. The sun shines down on the grand stone, illuminating each kanji carved into the surface. Hundreds of names, dating back to the First Hokage’s reign.

Sakura stands on his right, her fingers intertwined with his. Naruto is at his left, their shoulders pressed together. It’s the bottom of the stone where they direct their eyes, where the carved names are the clearest; unlike the others, which have become weathered by time.

Slowly, Naruto kneels down in the grass. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers over one of the names. His blue eyes hold a familiar pain.

 _Jiraiya._ Sasuke watches him mouth the name silently.

Sakura’s hand tightens around his. “It’s been nearly two years,” she whispers. “And it still hurts so much.”

Sasuke has no words to comfort her. All he can do is grip her hand back with the same fierceness. The war has left wounds on them all, many of them still open and bleeding. Some of Sasuke’s are over a decade old, and they still haven’t healed properly. He doesn’t know how to let them.

 _Time heals all wounds._ Whoever said that clearly never experienced true grief.

“I’m glad that it hurts,” Naruto says. “It reminds me they were here. It keeps me from forgetting.”

Sasuke stares down at his best friend’s kneeling form, struck by how much he has changed. All of them have. They are no longer the three children that once sat in this same spot and declared their dreams to each other; they are older, wiser, _wearier_. Their hearts are covered with dozens of scars that weren’t there before.

Souvenirs of war. They are a product of the flames that burnt them, the anvil that forged them. The will that made them grow formidable instead of breaking.

Sasuke stares down at the names near the bottom of the stone. Phantom pain shoots through his missing limb. “I wish I could forget.”

Naruto turns to look at him, his lips pulling into a frown. “You don’t mean that.”

Sasuke thinks about a battlefield littered with corpses. He thinks, with an unbearable pain in his heart, of lifeless eyes identical to his. He doesn’t respond.

“None of it is fair,” Sakura says.

Sasuke is forced to repress an insensitive snort. He bites the inside of his cheek. “Of course it isn’t. This world _takes_. That’s all it’s ever done, and it never stops.”

Naruto glances up at him briefly, his expression pinched, before his gaze returns to the Memorial Stone. His eyes are distant, half in memory, as he takes in the names of their fallen comrades.

“So many lost,” he says, fingers tracing each individual kanji. “Asuma, Neji, Nagato… _Pervy Sage_ …”

“Itachi,” Sasuke whispers.

His is the one name not on the stone, even though it’s the one that most deserves to be there. Sasuke experiences a sudden intense desire to pull out his kunai, to carve the name into the slab of rock himself.

Sakura shifts closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her touch is a balm to his anger.

“Itachi,” she agrees softly, “and hundreds of others.”

His grief is bone-deep, down to the marrow. Sasuke breathes in the soothing scent of Sakura’s perfume. The sun is warm on his face.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s over. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Naruto’s fingers go still on the Memorial Stone, against the name _Obito Uchiha_ , which Kakashi refused to have crossed out. Sasuke sees his shoulders stiffen, his face turned away from the two of them.

“Naruto?” Sakura says as the silence drags out. “What is it?”

Slowly, Naruto turns his head. His blue eyes are gleaming with _something_ , an intensity that wasn’t present a moment before. “Maybe we _can_ change it.”

“What?” Sasuke says, scowling. “What nonsense are you spouting now?”

“Sasuke… what do you know about time travel?”

* * *

Time travel is a roll of the dice. The dangers and uncertainties involved are innumerable, and they can’t take the risk of sending more than one person back. Not when there’s such a large chance of it going wrong.

In the end, they decide it’s going to be Sasuke.

He’s the obvious choice—either him or Naruto. No disrespect to Sakura, because she’s an impressive shinobi in her own right, but all three of them know without saying that she isn’t the best choice for this. Naruto and Sasuke were the spearheads of the Fourth Shinobi World War—it’s because of them that the world was saved. They’re the ones who are in the best position to make real changes.

Sasuke is of the opinion that Naruto is the best option. But then, his friend proposes a more specific plan: to take down the Akatsuki and dismantle Zetsu’s plans… _by infiltrating them from the inside_.

“It has to be Sasuke,” Naruto says. “He has the best chance. I’m the jinchuuriki—they’ll try to extract Kurama from me the moment I get near them.”

“And you think they’ll let me join? They’re an organization of S-Rank criminals. I’ll be a twelve-year-old kid.”

“Yeah, but you’re Itachi’s brother. That gives you an in.”

Sasuke’s chest tightens at his brother’s name—at the realization that he might be able to _save_ him. He knows he’s supposed to be doing this for the sake of the whole world, but Sasuke has always been selfish in his desires. His heart betrays him, thinking of a forehead pressed to his.

( _I will love you always_.)

They don’t tell Kakashi what they’re attempting. As Hokage, he’ll be obligated to stop them. If something goes wrong, or if they are caught, it’s better for him to have plausible deniability.

“It still doesn’t feel right to keep this from him,” Sakura says, weeks later as they’re finalizing the plan. “He’s a member of Team Seven, too. He should be involved.”

“There’s no guarantee he’d agree with us.”

“He _would_.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” Naruto bites his thumb as he rolls up the scroll in his hands, using his blood to seal it closed. “Besides, if this works, then none of us will even remember this. Only Sasuke will.”

Sasuke catches the scroll as Naruto tosses it to him. “Naruto’s right, Sakura—as unbelievable as that sounds.”

“ _Hey_!”

“What we’re trying to do is dangerous. We can’t rely on Kakashi to support us. He’s the Hokage now, not just our sensei. This has to stay between the three of us.”

Sakura gnaws on her bottom lip. “Fine,” she agrees uneasily. “But once we do this, you’re going to be the only one who remembers. You have to promise that you won’t forget us. That Team Seven will stay together.”

Sasuke looks up at her, at the fragility in her eyes. He reaches over to grip her hand. He doesn’t want to lose her—to lose either of them. It took him so long to let himself have this, for him to be able to admit that he wanted it. In whatever world he creates, he’s going to make sure they’re still standing next to him.

“We’ll still be together. I promise.”

* * *

It takes them four months of extensive research and planning. It’s a miracle Kakashi doesn’t cotton on to them during that time. But finally— _finally_ —they’re ready.

Sakura hugs him tightly before she leaves Sasuke and Naruto to it. Her embrace is warm as she locks her arms around him, her shampoo invading his nose. Normally, her proximity would make him extremely uncomfortable. But this will be the last time he sees her— _this_ version of her—so for once, he leans into the hug instead of away.

“Good luck,” she says, tears in her voice. “Find us again. Don’t you dare let us go.”

Sasuke finds his throat feeling strangely tight. With difficulty, he swallows the emotion down. “I promise.”

She leaves him alone in the empty chamber with Naruto. A few moments later, Sasuke is stripped to his waist, sitting cross-legged on the ground as his friend begins the task of painting the correct seals onto his skin. He has a brief flash of déjà vu, reminded of the time during the Chuunin Exams when Kakashi sealed his Curse Mark.

“It’s a good thing no one can see us now,” Sasuke says, a shadow of a smirk on his lips. “People would talk. What would Hinata say?”

Naruto huffs, his breath fanning against Sasuke’s bare collarbone. “Hilarious. But you’re not even my type. Sorry if I’m bursting any of your fantasies.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, attempting to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach about what they’re about to do. The feel of the brush against his skin makes him shiver. He can feel Naruto behind him, leaning uncomfortably close. He’s going painstakingly slow, and it makes Sasuke anxious to have someone this close to him—even someone he trusts.

“You’re sure I’ll go back with all of my abilities?” he asks.

“Jeez. Have a little faith in me, would you? I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s _time travel_ , Naruto. None of us know what we’re doing.”

Sasuke hears Naruto sigh, and he once again shivers at the feeling of breath against his skin. “Look, we knew this would be dangerous. But we’ve prepared for weeks now. I wouldn’t let you do this if I wasn’t sure.”

Sasuke doesn’t say anything. Naruto is at the square of his back now, painting slowly down his spine. Sasuke decides to stay quiet. He doesn’t know as much about fuuinjutsu as Naruto, but he knows that there’s no margin for error. Everything has to be perfect. That’s why Naruto’s being so careful—even the slightest alteration, and Sasuke’s soul could end up shredded as it’s forced through time and into his previous body.

He knows the risks. But they’re worth taking. Especially if it means he has a chance to save—

Sasuke cuts the selfish thought off. _You’re not doing this for Itachi,_ he reminds himself.

After a few more minutes of silence, Naruto speaks up again. There’s a hesitancy to his voice. “Hey, Sasuke… if this works, can I ask you to try and do something for me? Something you probably won’t like?”

Sasuke frowns. “What?”

“Save Nagato.”

Sasuke blinks. He nearly turns around at the words, before quickly reminding himself to stay still. “You’re kidding, right? You want me to save _Pein_? He’s the one who killed Jiraiya—"

Naruto flinches slightly. “I know. But what happened to him wasn’t all his fault. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just misguided.”

Sasuke shakes his head. Naruto’s compacity for empathy—for _forgiveness_ —will never cease to amaze him.

“Even if that’s true,” he says, “I don’t see how _I_ could change his mind. I’m not like you. I can’t make some impassioned speech to make him magically see the light.”

Naruto is silent for a moment, continuing to draw symbols down Sasuke’s back. “I understand you might have to kill him,” he says finally. “I’m just asking you to _try_. Try to save him instead.”

“I’ll _try_ ,” Sasuke agrees reluctantly. He exhales quietly. “Next you’ll be asking me to save _Obito_ , too.”

Naruto is suspiciously silent behind him. Sasuke’s eyes widen, turning his head to him.

“ _No_ ,” Sasuke tells him sharply, astonished that Naruto would even think about asking that of him. “Absolutely _not_. I don’t care if he eventually changed his mind, he hurt way too many people before it happened.”

“The same could be said of you,” Naruto points out, not unkindly. “I thought you would want to save him. He’s an Uchiha, isn’t he? He’s your family.”

“He’s part of the reason they’re _dead_. Itachi was forced into it. But Obito was more than happy to help him slaughter them all—and if he hadn’t caused the Nine-Tails to attack, they might have never even tried to attempt a coup—”

Naruto winces. “Okay, I see your point. He’s the reason my parents are dead, too, remember? So I get it. But I was able to look past that.”

“Not everyone can be as forgiving as you, Naruto.”

Naruto’s face twists slightly. He knows the words are true, even if he wishes they weren’t. “Fine,” he says. “You can’t forgive Obito. I understand that. But if you won’t try to save him for his own sake… then do it for Kakashi-sensei.”

Sasuke pauses at the words. He recalls Kakashi’s grief-stricken face on the battlefield—and how _familiar_ that expression looked. Like staring into a mirror. He recalls the man who once explained to him, in halting sentences and a guilt nearly two decades old, how he came to possess the Sharingan.

Kakashi reached out to Sasuke when he had no one—before even Naruto. He saw Sasuke’s anger, his pain, and tried to steer him away from it. He offered Sasuke a hand, a rope to climb out of the darkness—and in return, Sasuke _spat_ on him.

( _Let go of revenge. You’ll only tear yourself apart._

 _Stop acting like you’re still my sensei._ )

Sasuke winces at the memory—at the rush of guilt that accompanies it. It tastes like blood in his mouth and smoke in his eyes, lightning cracking at his fingertips.

Kakashi forgave Sasuke. For him, could Sasuke forgive Obito?

Sasuke ponders the question in silence. He isn’t his best friend—he can’t feel compassion for the person responsible for ripping his family away from him. He wants to be the kind of person who can—who can let go of his anger for the sake of another person. But he just isn’t.

Naruto completes the rest of the seals in silence. Neither of them speak again, and finally, he finishes.

“Good luck,” Naruto says softly. “And brace yourself. This will probably hurt.”

Naruto presses his palms flat against Sasuke’s back, and light bursts from the seals on his skin. Sasuke _gasps_ , fire roaring through his entire body. It’s _agonizing_. Flames are licking at his insides, raging in his chest. His soul is being _pulled_ , torn apart, and his vision goes white. He _can’t fucking breathe_ —

* * *

He wakes up with a gasp, his eyes _burning_.

He bolts uptight, the memory of white-hot pain lingering in his nerves. The room is dark, and there’s blood in his eyes, obstructing his vision. The sharp burning is dying down now, and Sasuke reaches up with a shaking arm to wipe his eyes.

Reaches up with his _left hand_.

Sasuke feels a jolt go through him. His Sharingan cuts through the darkness, and he brings his hand out in front of him, staring down at it. His breath catches as he curls his fingers into a fist, then allows them to go loose. He repeats the motion several times.

 _We did it,_ Sasuke thinks, reeling at the realization. _We actually did it._

Moonlight spills into the room through the window. He’s sitting in his childhood bedroom, under the covers of his bed. He feels as though his breath has been stolen as he takes it all in—the Uchiha crest above the headboard, the photograph of Team Seven on his dresser.

His _arm_.

It’s so strange—to feel sensation in the limb instead of just the phantom pain he’s felt for the last two years. He stares down at both of his palms as he pulls back his sheets to stand up. His hands are slighter and less-calloused than he remembers, hands of a child rather than a hardened shinobi. There used to be a scar between his thumb and index finger that isn’t there anymore.

Sasuke nearly falls when he attempts to stand up, quickly regaining his balance. This smaller body feels awkward, and he isn’t used to it. His bare feet pad across the wood floor, and he stares into the mirror above his dresser. His twelve-year-old self stares back.

 _We did it,_ Sasuke thinks again. _It worked._

In the mirror, blood stains his face. The young boy that stares back at him has a right eye that burns bright with the Mangekyou—and a left that bears the Rinnegan.

It’s uncanny, seeing that legendary eye peer back at him from a child’s face. So Naruto managed it—he sent him back in his younger body, but with all his abilities intact. His right eye is the Eternal Mangekyou, not just the ordinary Mangekyou—Sasuke can tell by the three-edged shuriken shape inset in the blood-red star.

These aren’t Itachi’s eyes, so the _how_ of it escapes him. But that’s not important.

He deactivates his Sharingan, then reaches up to reposition his bangs, moving his hair so that it’s covering his left eye. He wipes the blood from his face. The image in the mirror moves with him, and it feels like he’s staring at another person entirely.

There’s no Curse Mark on his shoulder—good. He was sent back early enough, before Orochimaru got to him.

For a moment, he falls back onto the edge of his mattress, taking the room in. He hasn’t seen it since he was thirteen; it was destroyed in Pein’s invasion, and he returned at seventeen to find the entire district reduced to rubble.

He takes every detail of it in—down to the slight dent in the plaster across from him. He tries to remember how it got there, but he can’t. Years have passed; some memories are still sharp, while other ones have blurred.

He turns his eyes to the picture-frame on his dresser. The three of them are so _young_ in the photo. And even Kakashi, who was already weighed down by the horrors of war when it was taken, looks lighter somehow. He’s smiling with his visible eye.

It’s the eyes, Sasuke realizes. That’s what makes them look so different.

It’s often said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. And in the years to come, Team Seven would collect dozens of scars on their souls, permanent and immutable. It would show in each of their eyes—the battles they’ve fought and the griefs they’ve suffered and the flames they’ve burned in.

Sasuke realizes, then, that those people are gone. That in travelling back in time, he’s erased them entirely. And in theory, he always knew that travelling back would mean this, but the reality of it hits much harder.

 _They aren’t dead,_ he reminds himself, as the sudden crushing feeling of loss threatens to overwhelm him. _They’re still here. Different versions of them—but they’re still them._

As an Uchiha, he’s extremely susceptible to strong emotions—especially those concerning the ones he loves. It’s the curse of his bloodline, to feel too deeply, to lose yourself in it, and he struggles quickly regain control.

He can’t sit around. They were successful. He needs to start moving immediately in his plans—in infiltrating the Akatsuki.

It’s night out. The moon and stars are the only lights in the sky. If he’s going to leave, this is his chance. Few people will be out on the streets during this hour, and the village’s Night Watch has always been extremely incompetent at their jobs. Last time he deserted, he walked right out the front gates and no one stopped him.

Sasuke doesn’t waste any more time thinking. He pulls out a backpack from his closet and begins packing.

He doesn’t take much with him—only what he can carry on his back. Clothes, weapons, provisions. He prepares himself before he goes, knowing he’s going to have a few fights coming up. He wraps his arms and legs in bandages to prevent muscle strain, and he stitches summoning symbols into his armbands. He wraps a few of his shuriken in wire-string before storing them away.

He doesn’t have his sword, which is annoying. He’ll have to steal one from somewhere along the way.

When he has everything he needs, he stares down at the photo of Team Seven on his dresser. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls the picture from the frame and folds it up in his pocket.

He will return to them. Once the Akatsuki are dead.

(Once Itachi is saved _._ )

He stands in front of the window in his room, his hands around the straps of his backpack on his shoulders, and stares down at the deserted street below. He’s hit with an eerie feeling of déjà vu, recalling the last time he stood in this position. But it’s different this time. He’s not walking into the den of a snake, driven by vengeance. He isn’t severing his bonds.

He thinks about his teammates now tucked away in their beds. Sakura sleeping fitfully, peacefully, still painfully naïve and innocent. Naruto haunted by the emptiness of his small, unkept apartment. Kakashi burdened by memories and ghosts, shaking awake from traumas over a decade old.

Sasuke slips his hand into his pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded picture.

_I’ll come back for you. I promise._

He leaves one thing behind as he slips from Konoha, to tell what has happened to him. Pinned to the front door of his house with a kunai.

His Konoha headband, a line drawn straight through the middle.

* * *

The trek to Amegakure should only take him about a week—but before that, he has another stop.

He takes the familiar path to Oto, traversing the roads easily. He knows every inch of the Hidden Sound after spending three years living there. He knows which places to steer clear of and how to hide himself from sight. Orochimaru has spies everywhere, but Sasuke knows them too, and he’s well-practiced in ducking them.

It takes him a mere two days on foot to reach Orochimaru’s hideout. He has dozens of them scattered throughout the Land of Fire, and even in other lands, but this one is his home-base. Sasuke walks straight up to the door, dispelling the genjutsu that hides it from sight.

It’s an eerie feeling to walk these halls after nearly four years. And in this body, he feels just as he did then.

He takes the stairs that lead deeper down, travelling deeper inside. Eventually he’s intercepted, by a flash of white hair and the glint of glasses.

“Excuse me,” Kabuto says. “But who the hell—"

Sasuke catches him in a genjutsu. He drops to the floor.

He walks the familiar dimly-lit corridor, and it’s like walking in his own shadow. He can feel the echoes in his memory of his feet taking the same steps—the anger and grief that consumed him, the darkness that slowly spread through his soul, freezing him solid.

He enters the room. Orochimaru turns to look at him.

“Sasuke Uchiha,” he says, teeth glinting as his lips curve up. “Isn’t this a surprise.”

“You know who I am?”

“Of course. I’ve been watching you for some time now. I never expected _you_ would come to _me_.”

Sasuke wishes he was surprised by this, but he isn’t. It’s just like a snake to observe its prey before drawing it in. He wonders how long Orochimaru watched him before making his move during the Chuunin Exams—weeks, months?

“I wouldn’t look so excited,” Sasuke tells him. “I’m here to kill you, not join you.”

Orochimaru fails to mask his surprise—and incredulity—at this bold declaration. He doesn’t know what to make of this situation, of the object of his desires delivering himself to him and making threats. After a moment, he seems to settle on being amused.

“Kill me? You shouldn’t make threats like that lightly, boy. What is this about?”

Sasuke looks past Orochimaru, where the man’s old severed hand is displayed like some sort of zombified trophy. It’s the hand that he cut off to escape from Itachi’s genjutsu—and on one of the fingers is his old Akatsuki ring.

“I need a ticket into the Akatsuki,” Sasuke says. “I figure I’ll bring them that ring as proof of your death.”

Orochimaru frowns. “The Akatsuki? Is this about your brother? There are other ways to get to him.”

“Like offering up my body? Did that already. Not interested this time.”

The Sannin’s body shifts slightly, yellow eyes flashing. “Arrogant _brat_ ,” he hisses. “You think you could possibly stand against the likes of _me_?”

Sasuke unsheathes the sword at his hip. It doesn’t fit in his hand with the same familiarity as Kusanagi, isn’t balanced the same way, but it’ll do in a pinch.

“I killed you once,” he says. “It shouldn’t be too hard to do it again.”

* * *

With his current abilities, taking down Orochimaru is _easy_.

Sasuke stares down at the molted body of his former master—at the dozens of dead white snakes surrounding him, the blood painting the walls and floor. Orochimaru’s face is lifeless, blood still leaking out of him and staining the carpet.

Sasuke cleans the blade of his sword on the bedsheets. There’s a single smear of red on his cheek, and he swipes it away with his thumb. There’s no sadness as he looks down at the body—but unlike last time, there’s no satisfaction either.

Sasuke didn’t exactly care for Orochimaru. But in a different world, the man had become his ally. Now that would never come to pass.

Sasuke pulls the Akatsuki ring from Orochimaru’s old severed hand. It’s a slate blue, where Itachi’s had been a deep scarlet. Parts of deadened skin are sticking to it, and Sasuke makes a face as he shoves it in the folds of the cloak he’s wearing.

 _Disgusting,_ he thinks, repositioning his bangs over his left eye.

Besides killing Orochimaru, the ring is really just a bonus to coming here—something extra to smooth his way into the Akatsuki’s ranks. What he really came here for is information. As a former Akatsuki member, Orochimaru has a wealth of intel on them—he has dossiers on each of its members. He also has records on their hideouts.

The only members he doesn’t have information on are Kisame and Deidara, who joined the organization after he left—which is why Sasuke had such trouble when he ran into Deidara in his pursuit of Itachi.

With Orochimaru’s compiled files, he has all the information he needs. Not that he didn’t already remember all of it, but its been years, and some of it has faded. He passes Kabuto on the way out, still unconscious on the ground.

He considers killing him—but in the end, decides to exercise mercy. He destroys all that is left of Orochimaru’s body, so Kabuto doesn’t infuse himself with his former master’s cells and return with a vengeance.

* * *

Briefly, as he’s trekking past the borders of Fire Country, Sasuke spares a thought for Team Taka. He feels a flash of guilt, but keeps moving. He doesn’t have the time for them now.

* * *

It takes him another few days to reach Amegakure. It’s raining when he arrives—a common occurrence—and Sasuke pulls up the hood of his cloak, protecting his hair and hiding his face from sight.

He knows where he’s going. He was once a member of the Akatsuki, after all, even if his time amongst them was extremely short-lived.

The tower where their headquarters are based looms above the entire settlement. The rain pelts down heavily, soaking Sasuke’s cloak. The chill has begun to sink into his bones, leaving him shivering.

It’s dark out—evening, the clouds in the sky blocking out what remains of the sunlight. Sasuke keeps his hand on the hilt of the sword as he approaches the tower, stretching out with his senses as best he can.

A chakra signature brushes against him, extremely close. It’s strong—but he isn’t a sensor, so he can’t tell more than that.

Sasuke’s knuckles tighten around the sword hilt.

The man that lands in front of him is familiar only from his picture in the Bingo Book. He has slicked-back grey hair with distinctive purple eyes, draped in the black-and-red Akatsuki cloak. He’s carrying a scythe on his back—three-bladed and red.

When he spots Sasuke, he begins laughing. “It’s a kid! _Haha_! Aren’t you just _adorable_!”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. _Hidan. Partner to Kakuzu._

Orochimaru didn’t have much data on him—only that he was immortal and couldn’t die, not even by decapitation. Sasuke knows Shikamaru was the one to deal with him originally, blowing his body apart and trapping the pieces underground. Sasuke has no doubt he could defeat him, but it would likely get messy.

And killing him wouldn’t exactly endear him to the Akatsuki.

After ensuring that his hair is still hiding his Rinnegan, Sasuke throws back his hood and bares his face. The rain continues to pelt down, now hitting his head.

“My name is Sasuke Uchiha. I request an audience with your leader.”

A spark of interest crosses his face. “ _Uchiha_? As in _Itachi_?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer. Hidan’s grin widens into something unsettling, and he swings his scythe down. It cuts through the air in front of him, imbedding itself in the dirt.

“I’ll be damned! You’re his spitting image! I thought he sliced up all of your kind! What do you want with Pein-sama, little Uchiha?”

Annoyance flickers through him at the form of address, as well as the words _your kind_. As if the Uchiha Clan were a breed of animal, not people.

“That’s between me and him,” Sasuke says.

Hidan observes him for a moment. “Huh,” he says. “You know, Leader-sama sent me out here to investigate the approaching chakra signal… but he never said anything about what to do with you. I’ve always wanted to fight with Itachi, but he never reacts to me…”

“My brother’s not the type to indulge idiots.”

Hidan’s eyes light up in glee. “ _Brother_! I _knew_ it! He just has that brotherly vibe to him, you know?”

Sasuke knows the persona Itachi adapted while a member of the Akatsuki, and he’s certain that there was nothing ‘ _brotherly_ ’ about it. Unless brotherly was beating your younger sibling up and inflicting indescribable mental torture on them.

Hidan grabs his scythe out of the ground, brandishing it with a grin. “What do you say, Sasuke-chan? Want to play a bit?”

Sasuke sighs, as he continues to ignore the raindrops on his face, turning his cheeks numb. He could tell as the conversation went on that it was steadily heading towards a fight. Sasuke doesn’t feel threatened—but he needs to get into the Akatsuki, and starting a fight with one of their members outside of headquarters isn’t a good way to do that.

“I have no quarrel with you,” Sasuke says, even as he prepares to draw his sword.

Hidan shrugs. “Neither do I. I just think your blood will look pretty.”

And in a blur, he _moves_ , the three-bladed scythe slicing down.

Sasuke’s sword is already there to block the blow, the loud clang of metal echoing in the air. Sasuke’s small, pubescent body strains beneath the force, his feet skidding back. His arms shake as he struggles to hold the weapon back.

For all the abilities he’s managed to retain, his physical strength is still that of a twelve-year-old.

Sasuke ducks under the scythe before he’s forced to yield. Hidan spins around, matching him strike for strike. Sasuke dances backward, avoiding each attempted slice, and Hidan dances after him. He’s grinning all the while, _laughing_. At one point, the edge of one of the scythe’s blades knicks Sasuke’s cheek; at the sight of blood, Hidan _licks his lips_.

Sasuke realizes that this man is quite insane.

It goes on like this for a while—Hidan laughing and chasing him, while Sasuke evades. He shouts all the while about someone called _Jashin_ , which Sasuke manages to gather is some kind of deity that he worships and wants to sacrifice Sasuke to.

It would be easy for Sasuke to light him on fire. Immortality is meaningless against Amaterasu, which can reduce a person entirely to ash. But he needs to join the Akatsuki, and killing one of them won’t be making the best impression—

“Come on, Sasuke-chan!” Hidan laughs. “Let me cut you up! I’ll drain your blood from your body—do you think Itachi will _cry_ —”

The taunts aren’t spoken maliciously or with any sort of heat—he’s having _fun_. Unlike Deidara, who targeted Sasuke specifically, Hidan’s simply in it for the kill. Blood and violence _excite_ him. Sasuke’s fought his breed before, and there’s no rationalizing with them.

Sasuke does a series of backflips to remain out of his range. The scythe comes down on his head as he rises back up, and he intercepts with his blade just in time. Once again, the metals clash loudly.

Sasuke grits his teeth, his muscles straining. Hidan laughs again, a maniacal sound, and bears down on him harder.

Kusanagi, the blade Orochimaru fashioned him with and that he’s been carrying at his hip since he was thirteen, is forged from an extremely strong metal. But unfortunately, this blade is not Kusanagi—it’s a random sword he picked up from a shop in Oto, not worthy enough to be given a name.

The blade is cheap. And as Hidan’s scythe pushes down on it, the metal begins to crack. Lines spiderweb outward, and Sasuke sees the red of his right eye reflected in the surface as the sword _snaps_ —

 _Piece of garbage,_ Sasuke thinks viciously, as he’s left holding half a blade and a useless hilt—

The three-bladed scythe rips through Sasuke’s shoulder, through his cloak and across his chest. Sasuke gasps, his vision going white from pain, and Hidan is _laughing_ , his face split in a mad grin. His eyes are glowing with bloodlust.

“Jashin-sama!” he proclaims to the sky. “This is for you!”

He brings his scythe down for a fatal strike, and Sasuke reacts instinctively. His Sharingan twists, as he pushes his chakra _out_ , and his body is consumed by a purple glow. Susano’o rises up around him, first only bones, and then its muscle tendons growing skin. Its indestructible armor wraps around him, shielding him completely—

Hidan’s eyes widen, but he’s not fast enough to halt his strike. His scythe collides with the Susano’o, and he lets out a loud cry as he’s blasted backwards through the air.

Sasuke bends over, pressing his palm against his wound. The cut reaches from his shoulder to partly down his chest, and it’s shredded his black cloak. Blood slips through his fingers, and though the wound definitely isn’t life-threatening, it still stings like hell.

Especially with the rain still pouring down from the sky. Sasuke is completely soaked to the bone by now. The water has caused his hair to stick to his face, which is the only reason his Rinnegan hasn’t been exposed.

Wincing, Sasuke straightens back up. He moves slowly toward his fallen opponent, and the Susano’o moves with him, covering him completely.

Hidan pushes himself up, laughing. “ _Haha_! Would ya look at that! You’re Itachi’s brother for sure!”

He pushes himself up, baring bloody teeth. Slowly, strange markings begin to appear on his skin. His entire body becomes black like ink, with white markings on his face and outlining his ribs. He laughs under his breath as he stands, swinging his scythe down—

 _Chidori Eisou_ spears him through the waist, cutting him in half.

He lets out a cry of pain as his upper body and lower body fall in different directions. Blood splashes through the air, onto Sasuke’s cloak, but the dark fabric hides it. The lightning in Sasuke’s palm crackles and dies.

Hidan’s eyes are still open, his intestines spilling out of his speared body. “You brat! Kakuzu! _Kakuzu_!”

Sasuke turns around at the sound of heavy footsteps. Another Akatsuki member—Kakuzu—is emerging from the entrance. He looks at his partner’s bisected body with a bored expression.

“Good grief,” he says in a deep voice, not paying Sasuke so much as a glance. “What did you do now?”

“Hey,” another voice says, also stepping outside the tower. _Kisame_ , Sasuke recognizes immediately. “What’s all this racket about, huh? What happened?”

“My partner is an idiot,” Kakuzu says. “That’s what happened.”

“Ah, nothing new then!”

Kisame walks fully into sight, Samehada thrown over his shoulder. His white eyes dart down to Hidan, who is now screaming at his partner to help him, over to Sasuke. His eyes widen when he sees the Susano’o.

“Hey, isn’t that…”

Sasuke stiffens. Because wherever Kisame is, usually following after is…

Itachi steps outside after his partner. His eyes lock on his brother immediately. “ _Sasuke_?” he says, sounding as if the name escaped his lips without his permission.

Sasuke feels like all the air has been punched from his chest. Itachi is standing in front of him, so achingly and hauntingly familiar, and Sasuke can’t _breathe_. He’s just as Sasuke remembers, with his pale skin and dark eyes. The crossed-out hitai-ate around his forehead, the Akatsuki cloak. His dark hair, now being soaked by rain—

Sasuke’s staring at a ghost. He thought he was prepared, but he isn’t.

( _Forgive me, Sasuke. But this is it._ )

Sasuke deactivates the Susano’o. His Sharingan fades, his right eye returning to black.

“What the hell is going on?” Kisame asks. He turns his head toward his partner. “Itachi! Who’s the kid?”

Itachi is staring at the empty space just occupied by the Susano’o, his eyes wide and shocked.

Somewhere behind them, Hidan is yelling expletives as Kakuzu drags his lower-half to his upper-half, beginning to stitch him up. To Sasuke, their voices are static. He can’t tear his eyes from his brother, who seems shocked into stillness, and the world around the two of them seems to blur until they’re the only ones in it.

Sasuke can taste the smoke on his tongue. Feel the press of two fingers against his forehead—

( _Forgive me, Sasuke._ ) 

Something strange overtakes his body, and Sasuke moves without thinking. As if he’s actually the child he looks like, he rushes forward and throws his arms around his brother.

* * *

Itachi doesn’t smell like soil and death, like he did the last time they were together. He smells the way he used to when Sasuke was a child, like something uniquely _Itachi_ , and for a moment Sasuke lets himself sink into it. His brother is solid against him, and Sasuke can feel the beat of his heart beneath his ear.

Itachi is too shocked to immediately shove him away. His body is as stiff as a rod.

_It’s been twelve years since—_

Sasuke steps back quickly, before Itachi can push him off. He quickly regains himself, feeling a rush of embarrassment for his behavior. He’s not actually twelve, he’s _nineteen_.

“Sorry,” he says, straightening his back and attempting to look dignified. “I got blood all over your cloak.”

Itachi, for the first time in Sasuke’s memory, is at a loss for words. A part of Sasuke relishes in the reaction, taking pride in it. Not many people can say they’ve made Itachi Uchiha speechless.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says finally, in a carefully controlled voice. “What are you—”

A loud, strangled yell cuts his brother off. “Ow! Mother _fucker_! Stop playing around with my insides and just sew me up, you bastard!”

Sasuke turns his head at the colorful words. Kakuzu is still kneeling by his fallen partner’s side. He’s weaving the two halves of his body together with what looks like wire-string as Hidan writhes beneath him. He isn’t bothering to be gentle, and the ground beneath them is a mess of blood and guts.

“Don’t be a baby,” Kakuzu says, and Hidan lets out another string of curses.

The rain is beginning to let up. Kisame laughs quietly, before pulling his gaze from the pair of them. His eyes glance down toward Sasuke, taking him in.

“You got Hidan good,” he says.

Sasuke shrugs. “He was extremely rude to me.”

Kisame smirks. He turns his attention toward his partner with curious eyes, and Sasuke can see the way Itachi’s shields immediately slam back up. All traces of his shock or any other emotion disappear, and his face becomes utterly blank.

“Itachi,” Kisame says. “You know this brat?”

“No,” Itachi says immediately.

“I’m his younger brother,” Sasuke answers.

Itachi shoots him a deadly look, but Sasuke is unaffected.

Sasuke steps back, out of his brother’s range. He’s unsure of how Itachi is going to react to his presence. He knows his brother cares for him deeply—but he also knows the man has no issue with harming him to keep up his façade.

“ _Brother_!” Kisame says with relish. “I thought you _killed_ all your family!”

It’s only because Sasuke knows his brother’s true feelings that he notices the slightest tensing of Itachi’s shoulders. But for anyone who doesn’t know to look for it, Itachi doesn’t appear to react at all.

“What are you doing here?” Itachi demands, still in that same level voice. “How are you able to use the Susano’o?”

Sasuke fights to steady his heart, which leaps into his throat every time his brother looks at him. He feels pinned beneath his gaze, and he can’t breathe—

( _I will love you always._ )

“The answer to that should be obvious,” Sasuke says. It’s not the answer Itachi wants, and frustration flashes briefly through his eyes. Sasuke turns to Kisame. “I want to meet with your leader.”

Kisame considers him for a moment, then he shrugs. “Sure. Any particular reason?”

“I wish to join the Akatsuki.”

Itachi’s eyes widen. “ _What_?”

Sasuke ignores him. Mostly because he can’t explain at this moment, but also because looking at him hurts too much and he wants to stop the flood memories flashing behind his eyelids.

“I’ve abandoned Konoha, and I want to align myself with your organization. To prove I’m powerful enough to be of use to you, I brought this.”

Sasuke pulls the blue Akatsuki ring from his cloak, wincing as the movement pulls at his wound. Itachi and Kisame’s eyes immediately lock on the object, flashing with recognition.

“That’s—”

“Orochimaru’s,” Sasuke confirms, returning the ring to his cloak. “I killed him four days ago.”

Shock crosses Itachi’s face again, though less pronounced. Sasuke can see that he’s attempting to grab hold of his usual composure, is trying to settle back into the faux indifference Sasuke forced him to fall out of.

“In that case,” Kisame says, looking as close to impressed as Sasuke’s ever seen him, “then I think our leader will _definitely_ want to speak to you. What do you say, Itachi?”

Itachi doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his gaze is intense.

Kisame beckons him inside. “Come on, kid. I’ll go get him. Don’t worry about Hidan—he’ll be fine once he’s strung back together.”

Hidan yells again, but cuts himself off with a gasp as Kakuzu twists one of his organs. “ _Fuck_! What the _hell_ , man?!”

“Quit your whining.”

Sasuke walks forward to follow the former Kiri-nin, ignoring the bickering pair behind him. As he passes his brother, Itachi’s hand snaps out and wraps around his upper-arm in a bruising grip. He leans down.

“ _What are you doing_?” Itachi hisses.

Sasuke doesn’t answer. Through the fabric of his cloak, Itachi’s touch burns.

* * *

He’s led into the large tower used as the organization’s headquarters. Kisame leaves him there to go fetch Nagato, leaving Sasuke alone in the room with Itachi.

His brother is moving the moment Kisame is out of sight, a familiar coldness in his eyes as he advances, grabbing him. Sasuke could evade him—has the speed to—but he lets it happen. Itachi isn’t likely to actually get physically violent with him, not unless Sasuke pushes him into it (like that day in the hallway what feels like so long ago).

“What game are you playing?” Itachi demands. The tone is harsh, but still calm. “You _left_ Konoha? If this is some sort of _ploy_ to kill me, you’re even more foolish than I thought, otouto.”

Sasuke winces. The words—the tone they’re spoken in, the expression on his face—bring up awful memories. _Foolish little brother._

For all that Itachi loved him, sometimes Sasuke forgets how cruel he was when he needed to be.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Sasuke says. He grimaces as Itachi’s vice-like grip pulls at the wound on his shoulder. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Not everything is about you, Nii-san.”

Itachi is caught off-guard for a moment. Is it the use of the word _Nii-san_ to address him? He drops his hands, stepping back. A flicker of a frown passes over his lips.

“You’re hurt,” he says.

There’s no concern in the words—it’s a mere observation. Playing the part of the heartless murderer.

Sasuke’s cloak is ripped at the shoulder and partly down his chest, but most of the blood from the injury is invisible against the dark fabric. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just a scratch. It’ll heal.”

Itachi’s mouth seems to pinch slightly, before moving back up to Sasuke’s face. “What is this, then? Why are you here? How did you come to possess those eyes?”

For a moment, Sasuke feels a flash of paranoia, thinking his brother has seen his Rinnegan. _He means the Mangekyou,_ he realizes.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he says. “But only once you drop the act.”

Something flashes through Itachi’s eyes. His eyebrows furrow in faux puzzlement. “Act? I don’t know what you—”

“No _lies_ , Itachi. I know everything. We’ve already done this. I’ve watched you fall at my feet—these eyes are _yours_.”

If Sasuke were a more patient, a more considerate person, he might attempt to ease Itachi into the fact that his twelve-year-old brother is a time-traveler. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t.

“I’m from the future—seven years in the future.”

There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Itachi’s face is unreadable, as he stares at Sasuke. A thousand emotions seem to swirl in the depths of his eyes, and Sasuke can’t read a single one of them.

“You’re _what_?” he finally says.

“From the future,” Sasuke repeats. Itachi’s tone is dripping with such disbelief that in a different situation, he might have found it comical. “There’s going to be a war in a few years—a goddess is going to try and consume all the chakra from this world. I need to stop it from happening, and to do that, I need to kill Zetsu. And preferably the rest of the Akatsuki.”

Itachi doesn’t say anything. Sasuke doesn’t blame him for thinking he sounds insane. Time travel aside, sometimes Sasuke himself still can’t wrap his head around the entire Kaguya ordeal. It sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi flick.

“I know it’s a lot,” Sasuke says. “I can do it alone if I have to, but…”

_But I’d rather do it with your help._

Itachi opens his mouth, then closes it again. His mouth twists in a complicated expression. “That isn’t—that’s _impossible_. Tell me what you’re really doing here _now_ —”

Sasuke’s jaw clenches. “I fucking _told_ you. If you choose not to believe me—”

“You expect me to believe you’re from the _future_? That’s ridiculous—”

“How else could I use the Susano’o? You saw it yourself! And I _know about your damn orders_ —”

Itachi’s eyes flash. “That doesn’t—” He takes a calming breath, steadying his voice so it returns to its normal quiet volume. “Sasuke, you just… you just barged in here. Trying to get yourself killed…”

“I’m _trying_ to save the world. Are you going to help me, or am I going to have to fight you?”

“You’ll lose.”

“I won’t.”

Itachi’s eyes narrow at the clear confidence in his voice—but then, the sound of a door opening echoes through the room. Their gazes break, as they both turn toward the noise. Pein has entered the room, walking toward them with a purpose.

He stops less than a foot away. “Sasuke Uchiha,” he says. “Kisame tells me that you’ve requested to join our ranks. And that you’ve disposed of a traitor for us.”

Sasuke attempts to refocus, frustration still burning in his chest. He’d forgotten how his brother had the uncanny ability to rile him up every time they spoke; no one else had ever been able to make him lose his temper so quickly.

Sasuke brings out the ring again, ignoring the sting of pain from his shoulder. “I did. I had a personal score to settle with Orochimaru—he wanted to possess my body, the same as he once wanted with my brother.”

Next to him, Itachi stiffens slightly.

“This is not a surprise,” Pein says. He reaches over to take the ring, examining it closely. “Orochimaru has long coveted the Sharingan. It was that same greed that forced him from this organization four years ago. If it’s true you’ve killed him, you’ve done the Akatsuki a great service. And we will always welcome anyone to our cause—“

“He won’t be any use to us,” Itachi says. “His strength is little.”

Sasuke feels a flare of irritation. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just being overprotective.”

Itachi stiffens again, his jaw tensing.

Pein turns to look at him. “If he really did kill Orochimaru—and fought with Hidan without being killed—then I fail to see how he could be as weak as you claim. I think he could be of great use to us.”

“He is a _child_.”

“He is a shinobi,” Pein corrects, “and not much younger than you were when you joined us.”

Itachi is silent. He’s already skating a thin line by protesting at all; to do so any further would reveal a caring that doesn’t match up with the persona he’s crafted.

Pein looks at the ring one last time, before looking down at Sasuke. “If you will excuse me for a moment,” he says. “I will return shortly.”

He pockets Orochimaru’s old ring, turning around and disappearing from the room with a sweep of his robes. Both of the brothers watch him leave.

“He’s going to talk with his leader about this,” Sasuke says, his lip curling at the thought of Obito. “Right?”

Itachi looks at him sharply. “How do you—”

“The future, remember?”

“Right,” Itachi says, in a tone of voice that clearly means _you’re full of shit and I don’t believe you for a second._

Sasuke sighs, turning to look at his brother. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

He doesn’t have time for this disbelief. He said he could do it without Itachi, and he meant that. He’s prepared to do this without his brother if he needs to—but he doesn’t _want_ to.

“I can show you,” Sasuke says. “If that will make you believe me?”

He activates his Sharingan. Itachi looks at him uncertainly for a moment, before inclining his head in permission. He takes a small step forward.

Their eyes lock together. Sasuke delves into Itachi’s mind, opening his own up to him and establishing a link between them. He focuses on the specific memories he wants to show, careful not to let his mind wonder. He projects them toward his brother.

He thinks of a battlefield littered with dead shinobi. He thinks of the Ten-Tails rampaging. Madara Uchiha, now a jinchuuriki, rising into the sky—a blood-red moon shining down on all of them. Kaguya—the Divine Tree sucking the life out of every living soul—

Except that letting someone into your head is a fragile thing. The flow of a person’s thoughts is constant and changing. Itachi is so _close_ , is _alive_ , and Sasuke can’t separate himself from him. Unbidden, other memories flood through the link between them—

( _Itachi’s hand wrapping around his throat, lifting him, pinning him to the wall. His voice at his ear and red eyes tearing into him—_

_Fingers digging into his eye socket, tearing out his eyeball. Blood in his mouth and fire on his tongue, the very heavens held in his palm. Lifeless eyes staring up—_

_An orange mask and a single red eye—“He couldn’t kill his little brother”—and truth, finally truth. And pain and grief and sorrow and **hate** —_

_“I will love you always.")_

Itachi jerks away from him with a gasp, his face as pale as a ghost. His eyes are shocked, horrified, his Sharingan activated.

Sasuke deactivates his own Sharingan, also stumbling back slightly. His heart is racing, the phantom emotions still echoing through him, the images flashing behind his eyes. He fights to regain his composure, to shove them away.

He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. _I didn’t mean to do that._

When he opens his eyes, Itachi is still staring at him with red eyes. There’s a haunted expression on his face.

“Sasuke,” he says quietly. “You…"

Pein reenters the room. Itachi instantly schools himself, his expression wiped clean and settled back into cold indifference. His eyes are back to their natural black. It’s eerie, how instantly and easily he does it.

“Come,” Pein says. “The Akatsuki will make a decision now.”

* * *

Sasuke finds himself standing below eight figures, who are all standing in a circle looking down on him. The entire Akatsuki called before him—except Zetsu and Obito ( _Tobi_ ) who are missing from the line-up. Six of the figures are physically present, while Deidara and Sasori are only shadowy projections. Perhaps they’re currently away on a mission.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Deidara yells. “You want some brat to join us!”

Sasuke scowls, but doesn’t say anything. They are voting on what to do with him. Hidan is present as well, having been stitched up by his partner. He now looks good as new, apart from a few bloodstains.

“You weren’t much older than him when you joined,” Sasori points out.

“When I was _forced_ to join!” Deidara corrects, shooting a hateful look in Itachi’s direction. He looks back at Sasori. “And who’s side are you on anyway, huh?”

Itachi looks completely uncaring of the proceedings, no trace of the shaken man from mere moments ago. Sasuke wonders what’s going through his head right now.

“Sasuke Uchiha,” a female voice says. Sasuke turns his head to be met with soft features and purple hair— _Konan_. “Deidara raises a point. You _are_ just a child. Exceptions have been made in the past for a few of our members, but that was only after they had proven themselves superior shinobi. If it’s true you’ve vanquished Orochimaru, then that is indeed a great feat. But how do we know you’re an asset to us?”

“I think my bloodline can attest to my strength,” Sasuke tells her. “I am of the Uchiha Clan. I’m Itachi’s brother.”

There’s a silence around him at the words, all eight of the S-Class missing-nins contemplating him. Itachi isn’t pleased, if the tight set to his mouth is anything to go by. Deidara is practically spitting fire with his eyes. Pein considers him with purple eyes identical to the one Sasuke hides behind his hair.

“Well, I’m convinced,” Hidan says.

Deidara spins around to stare at him, his expression twisting in disbelief. “ _What_?!”

Hidan shrugs. “Like he said, he’s Itachi’s brother. That’s good enough for me.”

“You’re kidding, right? He just cut you in half!”

“He did. It was very arousing.”

“Ugh, _gross_! You have some deep psychological damage—”

Kisame laughs. He bares his sharp teeth in an unsettling grin. “I say let him join,” he says. “It’ll sure make things interesting, that’s for sure! Why, I haven’t seen Itachi-san show so much emotion in the entire three years I’ve worked with him!”

Itachi shoots his partner a dark look, which only serves to make Kisame more amused.

Deidara is seething. “He’s a twelve-year-old _kid_!”

“Itachi-san was only thirteen when he joined.”

Itachi narrows his eyes at his partner. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“He’s your brother. It’s impossible for us to _not_ bring you into this.”

Deidara growls. “The last thing this organization needs is another Itachi! Goddamn fucking Uchihas coming out of the woodwork—I thought they were extinct! Just because he’s Itachi’s brother, that doesn’t automatically mean he’s strong!”

“My sister was rather kick-ass,” Hidan says. “Of course, I killed her as a sacrifice to Jashin-sama—”

“Oh my god, get _help_ —”

“Enough,” Pein says mildly, but with enough steel behind his tone to make everyone immediately go silent. “No more squabbling. Deidara, you have made your opinion known. I myself am in favor of Sasuke Uchiha joining us. Konan, what about you?”

“No,” Konan says with a frown. “He’s too young.”

“Sasori?”

Sasori shrugs. “I say let him join.”

“ _Betrayal_!” Deidara yells. “From my own partner!”

He is ignored, as Pein turns toward the one person yet to voice their opinion. Itachi’s eyes glow an eerie red in the darkness of the large cavern.

“Itachi,” Pein says. “What do you say? He is your brother. I will take your opinion as having more weight than the others.”

Deidara makes a noise much like a dying cat, but no one other than his partner pays him any mind. Sasuke looks up at Itachi, trying to read him, but his face is cast in shadow. His cold eyes give nothing away.

For a long moment, he says nothing at all. And when he finally does, he speaks reluctantly. As if the words are being pulled slowly from his throat.

“Yes,” Itachi says. “He can join us.”

Sasuke lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Pein inclines his head. “Very well. Then he shall become a member of the Akatsuki.”

Itachi says nothing, but his jaw is clenched hard. Sasuke thinks he sees his fingers twitching with repressed emotion.

Deidara _screeches_.

* * *

Afterward, the rest of the Akatsuki disperse. Konan lingers near Pein—Nagato—whispering something in his ear, before leaving. Kisame also makes his exit, but not before saying something to Itachi that makes the man glare at him.

Soon, Sasuke is alone in the room with only Nagato and his brother.

“The goal of the Akatsuki is to bring peace to the world. To all nations,” the orange-haired man says. “But for this to happen, first the world must experience pain. Only then will the cycle of hatred come to an end. Are you prepared to carry out this will?”

Sasuke keeps his face blank, careful not to show the disdain he feels for the words. He remembers Naruto’s words about how Nagato isn’t a bad person at heart; he attempts to remember that as he looks into the eyes that remind him so much of Madara.

“I am.”

“Good,” Nagato says. “Then from this moment on, reject the Hidden Leaf. You are now Sasuke Uchiha of the Akatsuki.”

Noiselessly, Itachi comes to stand by his side. Pein holds out his arm, handing over the spare Akatsuki cloak. In his hand, he also offers a ring—the slate blue one that Sasuke took from Orochimaru.

“Take it,” he says. “This ring and these robes will mark you as a member of the Akatsuki.”

Sasuke feels slightly nauseous. The idea of putting that cloak on brings back memories of the last time he wore it—back when his mind was spiraling, lost in his grief and his rage and his hatred. He never wants to feel that way again.

He glances at his brother next to him, so _alive_. A testament to all that he’s trying to save. Reluctantly, he reaches out.

“Fine,” Sasuke says, swiping the cloak and ring from Nagato’s hand. “But I’m not painting my damn fingernails.”

* * *

It’s been agreed that Sasuke will room with Itachi. Later, the two of them sit together on the floor, and Itachi prepares to clean the wound Hidan’s scythe left in his shoulder. They’re facing each other, their knees brushing.

“This’ll need stitching,” Itachi says quietly, pulling back Sasuke’s robes and examining the injury closely. He fetches a needle and thread, settling back down in front of him quickly.

Sasuke watches him silently. A lit candle is illuminating the room, casting their surroundings in a soft glow. Itachi’s brow is pinched slightly, and his thumb is warm pressing into Sasuke’s bare shoulder.

“All these extraordinary shinobi here,” Sasuke says, “and not a single one who knows medical ninjutsu?”

Itachi shrugs as he readies the needle and thread. “Sasori knows a bit of it, but only the basics. We don’t need healing often.”

His concentration on Sasuke’s shoulder deepens, as he begins to stitch the wound closed. He glances up at Sasuke as he first pokes the needle through his skin, but Sasuke doesn’t react to the pain other than a slight clenching of his jaw.

Itachi sews up his wound in silence. Sasuke can’t tear his eyes from his face—it’s been so long since he’s been allowed to observe his brother up close like this. Twelve years.

Itachi is _young_ , Sasuke realizes. Of course, he already knew this, but it’s different to actually see it. Itachi always seemed so much older than him—always looked older than his real age.

He’s _seventeen_ now. Two years younger than Sasuke.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says quietly, after a moment. He glances up at his brother hesitantly. “About what… what you showed me…”

Sasuke stiffens. He knows immediately that his brother isn’t talking about the memories of the Fourth Shinobi World War. He’s talking about the _other_ memories, the ones he hadn’t meant to show him.

( _Forgive me, Sasuke…_ )

Sasuke’s throat tightens. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Itachi looks at him a long moment, his face unreadable. He nods. “Okay,” he says. “That’s okay.”

He goes back to stitching Sasuke’s wound. Sasuke feels something swell in his chest, and something about the easy acquiesce causes tears to sting at his eyes. He closes his eyes, forcing them away. _Pull it together._

“I’ll help you,” Itachi says.

Sasuke opens his eyes at the words. “What?”

“You said you came back here to stop a war, right? I believe you. I’ll help you.”

Sasuke sucks in a quiet breath, not knowing what to say. Itachi isn’t looking at him. His movements are careful, his fingers gentle as he guides the thread. His long bangs are tucked behind his ear, and a single strand slips free, falling into his face.

“I’ve missed you,” Sasuke whispers, the words escaping before he makes the decision to speak them.

Itachi glances up, and his eyes catch Sasuke’s. The candle casts a gentle glow across his face, illuminating his features in startling detail. There’s something fragile about him in this moment, a quiet vulnerability, and it makes Sasuke’s heart catch.

Itachi smiles softly, in a way he hasn’t since they were kids. “I’ve missed you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the response for this story has left me completely speechless. I mean... _holy shit_. Over _700 KUDOS?!?!_ For ONE CHAPTER? Just... thank you guys so much <3 <3 <3

Two days after they return home from Wave, Sasuke doesn’t show up for training. Tardiness alone isn’t cause for too much alarm, but he’s _three hours_ late. Add that to the recent brush with death he experienced, and Kakashi finds himself worried.

He separates himself from his other two students, taking the path toward the outskirts of the village where the Uchiha District is located. It’s a different path than the one he used to take as a chuunin to Obito’s house; the compound was relocated after being damaged in the Nine-Tails attack.

Kakashi has been here exactly once since he helped with the clean-up after the massacre. Three months ago, when the Sandaime informed him Sasuke would be his student.

He winces as he passes the empty houses and shops. Even bathed in daylight, a shadow seems to hang over the place. Kakashi remembers how it looked under the cover of darkness, streets littered with bodies and running red with blood.

 _Sasuke really shouldn’t be living here,_ he thinks. _It isn’t healthy._

But then, he can’t exactly speak on this subject, can he? He continued living in his father’s house for years after he found the man’s body.

Kakashi doesn’t expect anything’s truly remiss with Sasuke. But it is his first time not showing up for training, and he _did_ nearly die less than a week ago. Kakashi is pretty new at this sensei thing, and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but checking on him sounds like the responsible course of action.

Minato-sensei would have checked on him.

Kakashi turns the corner, finally glimpsing Sasuke’s house. He frowns when he sees the darkened windows, and his feet carry him quickly up the steps, toward the front door.

His heart goes cold, dropping into his stomach like a stone.

 _No_.

* * *

Kakashi slams Sasuke’s headband down onto the Third Hokage’s desk. There’s a long scratch going through the metal plate, bisecting Konoha’s symbol, and the blue cloth is torn where the kunai pinned it to the door.

“He’s gone. Sasuke is _gone_.”

Sarutobi’s face is white. Slowly, he raises his eyes to Kakashi’s face. “Are you certain? This doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“I checked his room, there are things missing—clothes, weapons. He packed a bag.”

The Sandaime’s expression tightens, staring down at the slashed hitai-ate. Kakashi spins away from the desk, his mind completely awhirl. He runs a shaking hand through his hair. _Sasuke is gone—_

“What could have prompted this?” Sarutobi asks. “Were there any signs of—”

“There was _nothing_ ,” Kakashi says, turning back around. “I just found it on his door. There was nothing to—I don’t understand. How could he even walk out of this village? Wasn’t anybody _watching_ —”

The Third raises a hand to halt him as his voice begins to gain volume, carrying outside the office. Kakashi falls silent, wishing there was a chair he could sink into. He moves over to one of the windows, his hands braced on the edge.

He doesn’t understand. None of this makes any sense to him. Sasuke’s abandoned Konoha? _Why_?

Kakashi thinks back to the last time he saw him—just yesterday. He was _fine_. Sullen, antisocial, but that was normal for him; it wasn’t anything unusual. So what happened? And how could Kakashi have failed to see it?

Was it the mission in Wave? Nearly dying?

“This doesn’t make sense,” Kakashi mutters. “He was fine. He seemed fine.”

Seemed. He _seemed_ fine. But how well can Kakashi claim to actually know his student? They’ve only been a team for seven weeks. The only time Sasuke has ever shared anything personal was their introductions on the rooftop, and Kakashi hasn’t exactly made any real effort to get close either.

He knows what Sasuke has been through. He was there in the aftermath, when that small boy was found amongst all of the bodies. This is a kid who has been through more trauma and pain than most shinobi twice his age. Can Kakashi really say, with certainty, that he’s ever been fine?

He _seemed_ fine. But Kakashi knows how deceiving a mask can be.

He stares down at the village beyond the glass, bathed in bright daylight. Just another morning, the same as any other, and the people below are walking and laughing. No one cares that a young child is missing, because no one has noticed. For them, the world spins smoothly on.

_Sasuke… what are you thinking?_

Kakashi turns away from the window. “What are we going to do?”

Sarutobi raises a hand to his mouth. “Standard procedure for missing-nin is to erase them—”

“He’s _twelve_!”

The Sandaime pins him with a sharp look. “I am very aware of his age. If you recall, his brother was a mere few months older when he fled this village.”

Kakashi presses his mouth into a thin line beneath the mask. He’s right that age doesn’t account for much, not when you’re a shinobi—Kakashi was already a jounin at twelve, Itachi was an ANBU captain. But Sasuke…

“He’s a _genin_ ,” Kakashi says, looking toward the Third imploringly. “I don’t know why he would have done this, but whatever his reasons, he’s a _good kid_. If we can find him…”

Sarutobi doesn’t say anything. Kakashi waits for his verdict, and wonders what he’ll do if the man calls for Sasuke’s elimination. It’s true that the standard punishment for traitors is death; Kakashi is a loyal Konoha shinobi, and it’s a procedure that he agrees with. But these circumstances aren’t normal, and he won’t kill his student. He won’t follow an order like that.

(The moniker _Friend-Killer Kakashi_ still clings to him, even a decade later.)

“You’re right,” Sarutobi says finally. “Sasuke Uchiha is a member of this village—and his home has already failed him horribly. I will give the order to track him, but he shall be brought back alive.”

Kakashi exhales a breath, his shoulders slumping. His mind still hasn’t fully processed what has happened.

Sasuke is _gone_. Left everything behind in the dead of night, and without a sign of anything being wrong beforehand. Kakashi has only been a sensei for two months—how has he already managed to fail this badly? What is he going to tell Naruto and Sakura?

“And you really have no idea what might have caused this?” Sarutobi asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I mean, he nearly died in the Land of Waves, so that’s bound to leave him shaken. But I don’t see how that could have triggered _this_.”

After Wave, Sasuke was more intense. Focused on training more than ever. Their confrontation with Zabuza really opened his eyes to the harsh reality of shinobi life, and how little his strength actually was. His intense desire to become stronger… to reach his goal… to avenge his clan by killing his brother…

Kakashi’s expression tightens. “Hokage-sama… do you think this could possibly have something to do with Itachi?”

Something flickers across the Sandaime’s face—an emotion too quick for him to catch.

“For his sake, I hope not.”

* * *

Each member of the Akatsuki has their own bedroom located somewhere in the base. Sasuke, for now, is rooming with Itachi, though there’s only one bed, so he has been relegated to the stone floor. Itachi has offered to switch places with him, but Sasuke refused the offer. He’s slept in worse places.

The morning after he joins the organization, Itachi approaches him with a small red bottle. Sasuke pulls a distasteful face the moment he sees it.

“This is ridiculous,” he says, as Itachi leans down to carefully apply the polish to his nails. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. I said _no_ nail polish.”

“Sorry,” Itachi says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “It’s part of the uniform.”

Sasuke scowls. He’s sitting on the mattress with his legs tucked under him, his brother in an identical position across from him. It’s still rather startling to have him so close—and for him to be sitting so casually, without the usual mask of indifference over his face.

“Stop moving,” Itachi tells him, as Sasuke shifts slightly. “You’re messing me up.”

“I feel like I’m at a fucking slumber party.”

“Language.” Itachi doesn’t look up from Sasuke’s nails as he speaks “Been to many slumber parties, have you?”

Sasuke huffs. “Not as many as you, apparently. And don’t tell me to watch my language. I’m nineteen years old.”

“That may be so. But you look like a twelve-year-old, and it sounds wrong coming out of your mouth.”

 _Don’t remind me,_ Sasuke thinks. Being trapped inside the body of a twelve-year-old is strange and frustrating; even if he _does_ have the chakra and abilities of someone seven years older, his physical state is still that of a child. He’s small and short, and his muscles are less flexible. He has less strength, less stamina. His voice sometimes cracks.

He has a left arm again, which is good, except he keeps forgetting it’s there. He’s still doing everything with his right hand, even though he’s naturally lefthanded.

“So what is the plan?” Itachi asks. He finishes with the nails on one of Sasuke’s hands, moving onto the other. A strand of hair falls into his face, and he pushes it behind his ear. “How do you intend to stop this Kaguya?”

“Well, hopefully I won’t have to. If I can kill Zetsu and stop the Akatsuki’s plans, then the Ten-Tails will never be formed and Kaguya will never be revived.”

“Easier said than done, otouto. Zetsu is slippery. And Obito…”

Itachi trails off, the space between his eyebrows creasing slightly. He’s still processing the revelation that the masked man isn’t Madara, but rather, Obito Uchiha, their third cousin once removed. He’s processing a lot of things, but considering the circumstances, he’s doing a remarkable job at keeping it together.

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Sasuke says. “I already know more about them than you do.”

Itachi glances up, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Well, if you know so much, then why did you bother asking for my help?”

Sasuke shoots him a sharp glance. “Don’t ask stupid questions. I wasn’t going to let things go like last time. I won’t let you martyr yourself again.”

Itachi frowns, his eyes looking briefly troubled before he manages to hide it. Sasuke hates the way his brother is still putting up a mask between them—but he supposes it’s hard to break a habit that’s been so deeply ingrained. And Sasuke isn’t exactly being open about all of his feelings, either.

He thinks about the flashes of memory he accidentally fed to Itachi last night—that day in the hallway, his lifeless eyes, their final farewell. He knows they must be weighing on Itachi’s mind, but he hasn’t tried to bring them up again.

Something occurs to Sasuke, and with a sharp pang of worry, he asks, “Itachi, you’re not sick, are you?”

“Sick?” Itachi frowns, looking bewildered. “No. Should I be?”

Sasuke’s eyebrows furrow, the fingers of his left hand tapping against his thigh as the polish dries. “Then that means the illness must have developed later on. Perhaps it was caused by excessive use of the Mangekyou… How is your eyesight?”

“Poor,” Itachi admits reluctantly. “But nowhere near as bad as it could be. You’re saying it caused me to become ill?”

Sasuke shakes his head. “I don’t know. I know that you were sick—and dying from it. But I don’t know what caused it.”

Itachi doesn’t say anything to that, thinking it over. Sasuke, meanwhile, considers what to do about his brother’s eyesight. He can’t offer Itachi his own eyes—he’s going to need his Rinnegan, and even if he didn’t, it’s doubtful Itachi would accept the offer to exchange their eyes.

There’s always Shisui’s eye, but Itachi only possesses one of them. Perhaps Itachi can take Obito’s Sharingan after Sasuke kills him.

Itachi finishes up with his nails, returning the brush to the glass vial and twisting it closed. Sasuke scowls at the bright veneer on his fingernails, the color of blood. The color of the streets the night his world was ripped away from him.

“Why does it have to be red?” he complains. “I don’t even _like_ red.”

“So sorry, would you rather it be pink? Then you and Zetsu can match.”

Sasuke frowns. “Zetsu has fingernails?”

Itachi’s lips quirk, the barest huff of laughter escaping him.

Sasuke has informed Itachi of everything—and by _everything_ , he means the barest definition of the word. Itachi knows everything about the future that he needs to know to prevent the coming war, without any of the troubling personal details. This is not a heart-to-heart, after all; the two of them are on a _mission_.

He already gave his brother way more than he meant to when he let those memories slip through the genjutsu. If Itachi wants to know anything else, he can ask. Depending on the question, Sasuke _might_ answer him.

But for as long as Sasuke has known him, Itachi has never been one to initiate a conversation involving personal feelings unless it is vitally necessary. What’s important now is stopping the incoming war—not whatever happened between the two of them in the future.

“It won’t be as easy as you seem to think,” Itachi says. “I can see that you’re strong, I don’t doubt that. But you’re still physically _twelve_. You really plan to take on the entire Akatsuki alone? That’s suicide.”

“I’m not alone. I have you, remember?”

“A half-blind Uchiha? You’re right. They don’t stand a chance.”

Sasuke glares. “I don’t remember you being this sarcastic.”

He doesn’t know why his brother is underselling himself so much; even with his impaired vision, he’s still an immense asset. He managed to push Sasuke to the brink during their final fight, and he was nearly blind then, his body ravaged by illness.

“You’re underestimating yourself. And you’re underestimating _me_.”

“Maybe,” Itachi admits. “But I find that caution is always preferable to overconfidence.”

His brother _does_ have a point. Sasuke is confident in his skills when facing any of the Akatsuki one-on-one—excluding perhaps Pein. But with both Obito and Zetsu on the top of his hit list, there’s no way to kill one without immediately alerting the other. If the Akatsuki realizes his intentions and turns on him, he won’t be able to take on all of their members at once. Not even with Itachi by his side.

Overconfidence _is_ dangerous. He went into his battle with the Eight-Tails that way, and he was nearly killed.

“You can’t beat them all,” Itachi says. “Not even with that left eye of yours.”

Sasuke blinks in surprise. His hand comes up to cover the dark bangs over the left side of his face. “How did you—”

Itachi rolls his eyes. “You’re hiding it with your _hair_ , Sasuke. It’s not exactly an impenetrable disguise. You’re lucky no one else has seen it. If you’re trying to keep it a secret, cover it with a _bandage_ , at least.”

Sasuke feels his cheeks flush. “Shut up. Bandages are annoying. I’ll have to stop and take them off every time I need to use it.”

“Fine, don’t listen to me. But when a simple gust of wind blows your hair out of your face, just remember that I told you.”

Sasuke huffs. He combs his fingers through his bangs, making doubly sure that the Rinnegan is completely covered.

“How did you get it?” Itachi asks.

Sasuke winces, remembering the feeling of Madara sliding Sasuke’s own sword into his heart—but Itachi doesn’t need to know that. “The Sage of Six Paths gave it to me. Long story.”

His brother makes a curious noise, but he lets the topic go.

“I was thinking,” Itachi says, as he stands from the bed to put the bottle of nail polish back. He turns, leaning against the opposite wall and crossing his arms across his chest. “Your goal is to stop the Akatsuki’s plans. But what if you don’t have to kill all of them?”

Sasuke’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Most of the organization’s members aren’t aware of what its true goal is. I didn’t even know about the Infinite Tsukuyomi until you told me, and even Pein is being used. Obito, too—they’re all Zetsu’s pawns. This war will result in the end of all life on this planet. None of them will want that.”

“You think they would help us?” Sasuke asks doubtfully.

“I’m not saying we should trust them,” Itachi says. “Most of them have a complete disregard for human life—but even the worst of them will want to stop this, even if only to save their own skins.”

It’s a fair point. And Naruto has already asked that he attempt to save Nagato (and Obito, too, though the jury’s still out on that absurd request). Sometimes, with all the violence Itachi is capable of (and has inflicted on him), Sasuke forgets that his brother is a pacifist; that he only resorts to being cutthroat when it’s needed.

Sasuke doesn’t understand it. His solution to a problem is to cut it down. He’ll keep the peace, but he can’t do it the way his best friend does. Naruto wraps his enemies in words, making them see the light, but Sasuke’s first instinct will always be to use his sword.

(Sometimes he wishes it wasn’t.)

“Sounds complicated,” Sasuke says to his brother. “I’d rather just kill them. It’s cleaner.”

“It’s _reckless_ ,” Itachi says. “We don’t need to be impulsive about this. We can go about it more subtly. Play the long game.”

Sasuke’s lips curve up slightly. He’s never quite had the patience for the long game; Itachi, on the other hand, played it for over eight years. “You’re serious about this?”

“A few of them are actually decent people, believe it or not.” 

Sasuke sighs. He lays back on his brother’s bed, his small twelve-year-old limbs splaying out. “You want me to make _friends_? Fine. You know, I expected this from Naruto, but not from you…”

* * *

Itachi doesn’t know what to make of his little brother.

Is the term _little brother_ even correct? Physically, Sasuke is a twelve-year-old kid; he’s a tiny four feet and nine inches, barely reaching up to Itachi’s shoulders. But mentally, he’s nineteen. Two years older than Itachi.

Itachi doesn’t know what to do or think about all of this. He’s completely out of his element. Not even a day ago, his little brother—who he last saw as a broken seven-year-old surrounded by bodies—burst unexpectedly back into his life, claiming to be from seven years in the future. Like a wrecking ball, he destroyed all of Itachi’s careful plans in less than a moment.

A war is coming. He’s come back to stop it.

And he wants _Itachi’s_ help. He looks at his older brother, not with eyes full of hatred that seek his death, but with eyes that are filled with a deep sorrow.

(Itachi recalls the images he saw in Sasuke’s memory. A flash of his own dead eyes, and then _pain-anger-grief_ —

Only a fraction of a second, but the _force_ behind the feelings were enough to nearly knock him over.)

Sasuke isn’t a twelve-year-old kid, despite his appearance. It’s hard to come to terms with, that his little brother is actually a battle-hardened shinobi; but it’s obvious in the way he speaks, the way he moves. The look permanently held in his visible eye.

There’s an experience there—a jadedness. There are scars there. And Itachi knows that the massacre is bound to have left serious marks and dents on his soul, but this isn’t that. This isn’t a traumatized child; there’s a world-weariness to his brother that can’t be attributed just to horrors experienced when he was seven.

Sasuke has the eyes of a soldier. They are the same eyes Itachi sees when he looks in the mirror, and he never wanted Sasuke to share them.

Itachi closes his eyes and he can feel his little brother’s feelings from his memories. He can feel the _grief-guilt-anger-despair-rage-pain._

( _I was trying to protect you,_ he thinks.)

How could he have failed so completely?

* * *

“I still think it would be easier to kill them,” Sasuke says.

He’s leaning against the stone wall, and Itachi is standing next to him. His gaze is locked on the two pairs on the other side of the large open room—Hidan and Kakuzu, as well as Deidara and Sasori. They appear to be in the midst of some sort of card game.

“Careful,” Itachi says sternly, in the type of tone that only an older brother can master. Condescending-without-meaning-to-be-condescending. “Kakuzu has excellent hearing. Keep your voice down.”

Sasuke is tempted to remind his brother that he’s not actually twelve, and is actually the older one here, _so please stop speaking to me like I’m a child_. He bites his annoyance back. He’ll suffer it if it means he gets to have Itachi back by his side.

It’s rather surreal to witness four S-Rank criminals doing something so mundane as playing cards—and somehow managing to make a disaster out of it. Sasuke can hear Deidara’s screeching from across the room, accusing his own partner of cheating.

“You’re cheating, you bastard!”

“Just because you’re losing, that doesn’t mean I’m cheating. It just means you suck.”

“You were looking at my cards! I saw you!”

“What would I gain from looking at your cards? I’m already winning—”

“Because you’re _cheating_ , un!”

Sasuke looks away from the arguing blonde and redhead in disbelief. _This_ was the Akatsuki? A bunch of squabbling, moronic children?

“Unbelievable,” Sasuke mutters.

“They aren’t all idiots,” Itachi says, easily guessing his line of thought. “A few of them _do_ possess a modicum of sense.”

“How do you stand it?”

“Selective auditory attention.”

“You ignore them?” Sasuke translates, an eyebrow quirked in amusement.

Itachi smirks slightly. “I ignore them.”

They’ve discussed each member of the Akatsuki—which ones to approach peacefully and which ones to approach with a blade. Hidan and Kakuzu are too unpredictable; Hidan has no moral ground to speak of, and Kakuzu’s is too flimsy to rely on. Taking them out is the best option—but _later_ , when they don’t have to worry about suspicion being cast on them.

Itachi is convinced that Kisame can be persuaded. Though it might not seem like it, the former-Kiri-nin has a strict moral code. Itachi has promised to handle him personally. There is no trust in the Akatsuki, but he and his partner have grown to respect each other, at least.

Pein will be the important one. He’s the most influential piece here. Also, if they can’t turn him away from Obito, killing him will be _really_ hard.

( _Save Nagato_ , Naruto asked him.

Sasuke really doubts he’ll be able to, but he promised his friend he’d try.)

“We should talk to Konan first,” Itachi says. “She has a huge influence on him. Pein confides in her. If we can get her on our side, then that will be a large step forward in swaying him.”

His voice is low, making it impossible for the four across the room to overhear. But they’ve dissolved into chaos, Hidan swinging his scythe around and Deidara threatening to blow him up, so Sasuke doubts it makes a difference how loud they’re speaking.

“Who said anything about _we_?” Sasuke questions. “I thought we agreed that _I_ would handle Pein.”

Itachi frowns. “I never agreed to that.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need your permission, anyway.”

A hint of irritation flickers briefly through Itachi’s eyes. “Sasuke—”

“ _No_ ,” Sasuke tells him firmly, looking up at him. “I know I look like a kid, but I’m _not_. I’m doing this myself, and you don’t have the right to boss me around.”

The two of them look at each other for a long moment, identical eyes locking. The atmosphere between them is tense, but finally, something shifts in Itachi’s expression. He nods his head very slightly.

“You’re right,” he says. “I don’t have the right to make you do anything.”

Sasuke blinks. He knows his brother eventually came to realize that he had to let Sasuke make his own decisions—but this younger version of Itachi hasn’t yet, so Sasuke expected more of an argument.

“…Thank you.”

They fall silent, watching the spectacle in front of them—Hidan and Deidara yelling at each other, weapons flying through the air, while Sasori and Kakuzu ignore their antics completely, continuing calmly with their card game as if the other two aren’t there.

“Is this normal?” Sasuke asks.

Itachi shrugs. “Pretty much.”

Sasori hunches over in his chair as Deidara’s detonating clay explodes feet away. It’s a small explosion, searing some of the skin off Hidan’s face; no one else is affected, but Sasori is clearly annoyed.

“Would you knock it off? Leader-sama told you not to detonate those things in the base.”

“You can’t contain my art. _True art is an explosion_ —!”

Sasori sighs at the manic gleam in the blonde’s eyes. “Not this again. You know nothing about true art.”

“And you _do_!? You wouldn’t know what true art was even if I rammed this C-4 right up your—”

Kakuzu turns in his seat, his eyes locking onto Itachi across the room. “Itachi-san. Care to join us for a round?”

Deidara’s head snaps around. “ _What_? Don’t invite him over here, un! Get lost, Uchiha!”

Itachi doesn’t deign to respond to either of them, his eyes indifferent. Kakuzu shifts his gaze to Sasuke. “What about you, baby Uchiha? Fancy joining us?”

“ _Not him either_ , un!”

Sasuke scowls at the nickname. “I’d rather stab my eyes out with a pencil.”

“Well, there’s no need to be rude.”

Out of all people, it’s _Hidan_ who says this. Hidan, who still has his scythe out from swinging it at Deidara. The blade is still stained with Sasuke’s dried blood from yesterday, and the time-traveler looks at him incredulously.

“Are you kidding?” 

Itachi’s lips quirk just slightly. “You heard him, otouto. Don’t be _rude_.”

Sasuke uses his short height to his advantage, ramming a bony elbow into his brother’s stomach.

* * *

Sasuke Uchiha has been missing for a week when the Chuunin Exams begin. Kakashi is the only sensei who doesn’t nominate his students.

Sarutobi feels all of his sixty-eight years—older even—as he leans back in his chair, his pipe a familiar comfort between his lips. He can feel his bones creaking along with the chair, and he wonders, _how have I let it come to this?_

Another day without any news on the whereabouts of the youngest Uchiha. He has jounin and ANBU squads both out searching, but the kid has left no discernable trail. He is simply gone without a trace, with only the scratched headband left behind to show for it.

Sarutobi has broken his promise, and he dreads what will happen when Itachi discovers this.

Danzo has already been by to discuss his opinion on this matter. One rogue Uchiha was bad enough, but two? _We should have killed both of them,_ he said. _I told you they were too dangerous to be left alive. Now look what your soft-hearted idealism has unleashed!_

Sarutobi disagrees vehemently. He will never regret allowing Sasuke Uchiha a chance to live his life; the only thing he _does_ regret, and always will, is that it had to come at such a cost—and that he cannot extend the same security to Itachi.

But now, Sasuke Uchiha has gone—the slash in his hitai-ate a testament to his severed loyalty. And Sarutobi cannot help but worry. Kakashi cannot fathom a reason why his student might suddenly decide to abandon Konoha; but Sarutobi knows a very good reason why he might make such a choice.

If Sasuke Uchiha has somehow discovered the truth about his clan’s annihilation…

Sarutobi presses his fingers to his temples. He doesn’t want to even consider the possibility, and he doesn’t understand how it could have happened, but it’s the only explanation that makes any sense to him with the limited information he has.

Has Sasuke gone to find his brother? Has he turned against his village? Sarutobi wishes he had some way to contact Itachi. In the two times they’ve corresponded since the massacre, it was always the young teenager who contacted him; establishing regular communication is too risky when so deeply undercover.

Sarutobi can only hope that Sasuke is with his brother. Because if he isn’t, if he is in danger, if he is _dead_ —then Itachi Uchiha has just become Konoha’s greatest threat.

_Tap, tap._

The old man turns in his chair at the noise. There is a messenger bird knocking on the window. Sarutobi moves to let the animal in, and it flies onto his desk. He takes the rolled-up message from its back.

He recognizes the scratchy writing as Jiraiya’s. For a moment, his heart sinks, because he was hoping it would be news about Sasuke. But then he actually _reads_ the message, and he stares down at it in shock. He falls into his chair, and he has to re-read the words several times.

_This can’t be true._

Orochimaru has been killed—by a twelve-year-old boy wearing the Uchiha Clan’s crest.

* * *

Being a part of the Akatsuki is… an _interesting_ experience.

Sasuke doesn’t know how else to describe it. It definitely isn’t what he expected. This isn’t his first time donning the organization’s colors, but it was different then. Most of the Akatsuki’s members were already dead when Obito ensnared him and Team Taka into their ranks after Itachi’s death, and it was only for a short time. Then Sasuke took Itachi’s eyes, and the war happened, and he met his brother again only to immediately lose him again—

(Sasuke shoves away the memory of Itachi’s smile. _I will love you always_.)

Back to the point.

Sasuke doesn’t know how _these_ can possibly be the elite shinobi responsible for nearly ending the world. Half of them seem to possess no sense at all, behaving like foolish, rampaging children rather than adults. Did they really capture seven bijuu? It’s hard to imagine.

Hidan is a raving fanatic, obsessed with his strange deity and drawn to the slaughter. Kakuzu, unlike his partner, takes no sadistic pleasure in the sight of blood, but nor does he have any regard for life whatsoever. He is disinterested in Sasuke, unlike Hidan, who delights in poking and prodding him in an effort to make him snap.

Sasuke can’t stand him. And that damn _scythe_ —he keeps swinging it in Sasuke’s face. Though Itachi threatened to snap the weapon in half the fifth time it happened, so hopefully it’ll stop now.

(“I can defend myself,” Sasuke snapped at his brother when it happened.

Itachi had pointedly looked down at him. “You’re twelve.”

“I am _not_ —”)

They haven’t started their hunt for the Tailed Beasts yet. The majority of them, Sasuke was startled to learn, don’t even seem to know _why_ their leader plans to collect them. Just that it will eventually lead to the incredibly vague notion of peace. Over half of them don’t seem to have any interest in Pein’s goal—they just want to be a part of something that allows them to express their violent tendencies.

Sasuke hasn’t been sent out on any missions yet, though he’s only been here for a week.

“I’m going to talk to Kisame today,” Itachi tells him on the eighth day.

Sasuke looks up at him (which is really annoying to have to do). “Are you sure that’s smart?”

“It’s smarter than your plan, which was just ‘kill everyone’.”

Sasuke scowls. That’s a total oversimplification of what he planned to do—and Itachi’s using his familiar ‘I’m-judging-you-for-your-choices’ voice, which is really annoying, especially when you consider _his_ previous choices.

“Are you forgetting what you did to our clan? Your plan was also ‘kill everyone’. You don’t have room to talk.”

The words come out a bit sharper than he meant them to. Itachi goes silent immediately, and Sasuke isn’t sure if he feels guilty or not.

He loves his brother—and he’ll be damned if he can’t save him this time, can’t give him a chance to live. But Itachi’s actions were still extremely fucked up, regardless of his intentions, and Sasuke has been forever twisted by what he did to him.

There’s a pregnant pause between them, fraught with a heavy tension. Their history is one of lies and blood, and Sasuke can feel all of it held in the small space between them.

( _Forgive me, Sasuke._ )

( _You don’t ever have to forgive me…_ )

“I’m going to go find Kisame,” Itachi says. His voice is smooth, but his face seems colder now. “Try not to antagonize any of the other members while I’m gone.”

Just like that, he’s gone. Suddenly, the empty room seems a lot colder.

* * *

Itachi’s steps echo against the stone floor, the noise bouncing off the walls as he walks down the narrow corridor. He attempts not to think of the words that came from his brother’s mouth—the images and feelings they conjured, belonging to memories that aren’t his.

Itachi has tried to avoid thinking about it. He knows Sasuke didn’t mean for him to see it. But it won’t stop flashing in front of his eyes; scenes of a life he hasn’t lived yet, the pain he’s going to cause. His hand wrapped around the twelve-year-old’s throat—the sound of his screams—

Sasuke looked no older than he is now in that memory—when Itachi so casually ripped through his mind with his Tsukuyomi for a second time.

( _You’re still too weak. You don’t have enough hatred._ )

Itachi doesn’t doubt the memory. He knows himself, and he understands his future actions completely. It’s all in line with his plans—to make Sasuke stronger, to push him. But to experience it from _Sasuke’s_ point of view—to experience the brunt of his feelings, his torture—

To feel Sasuke’s helplessness as Itachi pinned him to the wall—his choking fear, and the self-hatred for his weakness. His split-second of relief as he stared down at Itachi’s lifeless body— _it’s finally over_ —followed by the horrifying realization—and to feel his _grief_ —to feel the way it _swallowed him_ —

Itachi knew that his plans were going to hurt his brother. But he knew it in an objective way. To actually _feel_ Sasuke’s emotions for himself—

Itachi’s nails bite into his palms. Just recalling the feelings is enough to make his breath leave him.

( _Forgive me, Sasuke…_ )

Four years of planning. And all it took was a single moment inside Sasuke’s head to make him second-guess everything. To make him question every decision he made, every decision he was _going to_ make. How could he have been so wrong?

Itachi thinks of the look inside Sasuke’s eyes from just before he left him alone in their room—that look that doesn’t belong in the eyes of a twelve-year-old.

 _I’m sorry,_ Itachi thinks. _It wasn’t supposed to break you. That wasn’t what I was trying to do._

Itachi supposes he should be grateful for his brother coming back in time, because now Itachi won’t ever do the things he saw himself do, won’t make those same mistakes. Except it doesn’t matter, does it? Because even if that future is gone now, the Sasuke from that time isn’t. He still has to remember it. He still has to live with Itachi’s mistakes, even if Itachi doesn’t go on to make them.

Sasuke will still live with the memories of that horrible future, even if they avert it. He will still have those same haunted eyes, and Itachi will always know that he failed him.

Itachi digs his nails deeper into his skin. He remembers the memory as he experienced it, from Sasuke’s point of view. He can feel the hand against his throat, can feel the Tsukuyomi ripping into his own mind. _You are weak—_

It is only fitting, he supposes.

Itachi makes sure his feelings are hidden as he stops in front of Kisame’s door. He buries everything he’s feeling with an ease born from years of practice, raising a hand to knock.

The opens after a moment. Kisame stands in the doorway, and he clearly isn’t expecting Itachi. He isn’t wearing his Akatsuki robe or his village hitai-ate.

“Itachi-san. Do we have a mission?”

“No. I needed to talk to you about something. May I come in?”

The former Kiri-nin raises his eyebrows. “You’re asking to come into my bedroom? Itachi-san, are you propositioning me?”

“I’m not into older men.”

Itachi’s expression doesn’t change as he speaks the words. Kisame blinks, and then a snort escapes him. He shakes his head, moving aside to let Itachi slip into the room.

“You always say everything with the same flat tone. I can never tell whether you’re joking!”

Itachi steps into the room, Kisame closing the door behind him. He’s never been in his partner’s private quarters before, just as Kisame has never been in his. They’ve worked together for three out of the four years Itachi has been here, and there is a certain level of trust between them—but trusting someone to cover your back in a fight and to not murder you in your sleep is wholly different than allowing them close to you personally. Both of them usually maintain a professional distance.

Kisame is a comrade. Itachi respects him for his strength and his loyalty. But he isn’t a friend—he can’t be. He’s a murderer and a criminal. He’s a traitor to his village.

( _So are you_ , a voice in his head reminds him. _How are you so different from anyone here?_ )

“So!” Kisame sits down on his bed with a grin. His giant sword is leaning against the wall next to him. “What’s so important? How’s your baby brother settling in with us?”

Itachi frowns. “This has nothing to do with Sasuke.”

The older man grins. “Come on, Itachi! Your little brother shows up out of nowhere for a brotherly reunion—when I thought you killed all your family! You can’t expect me to _not_ be curious!”

“I expect you to mind your own business.”

Kisame looks at him for a moment with a strange look, as if attempting to figure out a puzzle. Then, something in his face shifts. “Wow,” he says. “You actually _care_ about that brat, don’t you? Amazing. I didn’t think you were capable of loving anything—”

“ _Kisame_ —”

His partner ignores the clear warning in his tone. “—but you _are_! You really love him! The way you’ve been hovering around him this past week, not letting anyone step into his space—I saw you when Hidan took a swing at him two days ago, you were giving off killing intent! I thought you were _heartless_ , but it turns out—”

Itachi moves. Kisame moves as well, but Itachi is faster, grabbing his partner by the throat. He presses the man against the wall, his arm pressing against his windpipe. His eyes change, shifting to show the pattern of the Mangekyou.

“Shut. Up.”

Kisame looks suitably intimidated for a moment, their eyes locked. Then, he smiles, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

Itachi drops his arm, stepping back. He realizes that Kisame was attempting to goad him, to get a reaction, and he’s embarrassed to have fallen into it. It’s nothing new, but Kisame’s never had any ammunition to work with before. Sasuke is a weakness—his only weakness—and he hates that his partner is now aware of it.

“Relax,” Kisame says with an easy grin. “I’m not gonna touch him or anything. I just find it interesting, that’s all. You killed the kid’s family, didn’t you? Shouldn’t he hate you or something?”

“Enough about Sasuke,” Itachi says coldly, not thinking about his sword slicing through his parents’ necks. “I told you, this isn’t about him.”

Kisame leans against the wall next to his sword. He crosses his arms across his chest. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is it about?”

“How much do you know about the Infinite Tsukuyomi?”

* * *

Somehow, Sasori pulls Sasuke into playing a game of shogi. He isn’t sure how it happens, only that he’s now sitting down with the board in front of him.

Across from him, Sasori is free of his usual armor. Sasuke isn’t quite sure how his body works, why he uses the puppets, but the one he’s wearing now looks human. Young, no older than a teenager, though Sasuke knows him to be much older—closer to Kakashi’s age. His eyes are wide, almost maniacal, but there is nothing to distinguish him from normal flesh and bone.

“I should thank you for taking care of Orochimaru,” he says. “He was my partner before he fled the organization four years ago. I’m grateful to you for taking care of that traitor. How did you do it?”

Sasuke shrugs as he reaches for one of the pieces on the board. “He was planning on stealing my body. But he underestimated me.”

“Yes. He did that with your brother as well.”

Sasuke smirks slightly, imagining his former master tucking tail and running away after being completely overpowered by a thirteen-year-old.

He turns his attention back to the board in front of him. Surprisingly, Sasori isn’t bad company. Sasuke pegged him as the impatient type, but apparently, that’s a side-affect of hanging around his partner. Without Deidara, the Suna-nin is rather calm and quiet.

On his turn, Sasori moves his piece to capture Sasuke’s knight, attempting a pawn drop. Sasuke escapes by moving the knight down from 73 to 65. Sasori frowns down at the board for a moment, before moving his white piece and executing a bishop trade. Sasuke is quick to counter it.

“You’re good at this, kid,” Sasori says. “Where did you learn to play?”

Sasuke fights the urge to bristle at the word ‘kid’. “My jounin sensei. Kakashi Hatake.”

(The real answer is Orochimaru, but that one wouldn’t make sense.)

Sasori’s head snaps up. “Did you say _Hatake_?”

He spits the name the same way Sasuke used to snarl _Itachi_. Like each syllable is a jagged piece of bone, scraping against his throat as it’s pulled from him.

“…Yes,” Sasuke says carefully, sensing he’s trodden on a landmine. “Do you know him?”

Sasori’s jaw clenches. “Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang… he killed my parents. Who is this _Kakashi_?”

Sasuke tenses. There’s an undercurrent of anger in the man’s voice now, a hint of killing intent in those manic eyes. It’s clear that one misstep here could cause a disastrous reaction.

“I don’t know anything about that,” he says. “He was only my sensei for a couple months. I don’t know anything about him.”

Sasori’s eyes flash, the killing intent sparking. “My _parents_ —”

The door bangs open at just that moment, and Deidara rushes in with a blur. “I could feel the killing intent from down the hall!” he yells. “Did Hidan kill someone again? Please let it be Itachi this time—”

He stops immediately when he sees Sasuke. “You!” he snarls. He looks between Sasuke, his partner, and the board on the table in front of them. “Sasori! What the _hell_? You traitorous scum, why are you fraternizing with that—”

“Get lost,” Sasori says. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Sasuke, and his killing intent hasn’t dimmed.

Deidara stops as he fully comprehends the state of his partner. He swallows slightly. “Sasori, my man. Let’s not lose our heads. You know if you hurt him, then Itachi will—”

“Since when do you care what _Itachi_ thinks? I thought you weren’t scared of him.”

Deidara sputters angrily. “What—that—I’m _not_! As if I— _scared_ —!”

Konan has also entered the room with Deidara, in a much calmer, quieter fashion. She settles a hand on Deidara’s shoulder. Sasuke raises an eyebrow as the enraged blonde calms immediately, his shoulders dropping and the furious set to his mouth disappearing.

“Deidara,” Konan says. “Relax. There’s no need to get worked up.”

 _Huh_ , Sasuke thinks as the Akatsuki member actually listens.

Sasori is still emitting killing intent. Sasuke holds his body still, and his hand moves instinctively toward his hip to rest on the hilt of his sword, before remembering it isn’t there. He really needs to get another one.

“ _Kakashi Hatake_ ,” Sasori growls at the two of them. “Have you heard of him?”

Deidara frowns and shakes his head—unaware that in just a few years, he’s going to lose an arm to the man. Konan, however, does recognize the name.

“Kakashi of the Sharingan,” she says. “The Hidden Mist has him listed in their Bingo Book. What’s your business with him?”

Sasori scowls. Abandoning their match halfway through, he stands up and stomps from the room. He bumps purposely into Deidara as he does, and the blonde has to be steadied by Konan.

“Hey!” Deidara yells. “Asshole! Where are you even going?”

“To steal Kisame’s Bingo Book!”

Deidara watches his partner leave with an affronted expression. “What did _I_ do? He always overreacts…”

Konan raises an elegant eyebrow. “A couple days ago, you tried to blow him up.”

“That was different! He insulted my art! ‘ _Art is something eternal,_ ’ what a load of bullshit—”

Konan cuts him a sharp look, before sending a pointed look toward Sasuke. It takes Deidara a moment to understand what she means, then he rolls his eyes.

“He cut Hidan in half yesterday, Ane-san. I doubt he’s bothered by swearing.”

Sasuke is surprised by the form of address, though he doesn’t show it. It’s formal and polite, but it also demonstrates a close relationship. Sasuke doesn’t know much about Konan apart from the basics of her abilities, but she’s clearly well-respected within the organization. Which makes sense, her being so close to Pein.

Konan walks further into the room. She stops in the place where Sasori was sitting, offering Sasuke a kind smile. “Do you mind if I join you for a game?”

“ _What_?!” Deidara yells.

Sasuke was hoping to go back to his room—but he and Itachi were just discussing speaking to Konan, and this is a perfect opportunity. It’s rare to see her not at Pein’s side, and Sasuke needs to get a gage of her personality and mindset if he’s going to make a decision on whether or not to trust her.

Plus, if it pisses Deidara off, that’s an added bonus.

“Sure,” Sasuke says, and Konan takes Sasori’s place on the floor.

“ _Ane-san_! Not you too, un! I’m surrounded by fucking traitors—”

“Your grudge with Itachi has nothing to do with me,” Konan says, not unkindly. “Nor, for that matter, does it have anything to do with Sasuke. He’s done nothing to earn your dislike.”

“He _exists_ , un! Him and his brother! And it’s not a grudge, it’s a seething hatred! He thinks he’s so much better than me!”

“Has Itachi said that?”

“He doesn’t have to, un! I can tell by the way he looks at me! Those damn eyes—!”

Sasuke finishes resetting his black pieces, placing them all on the starting point on his side of the board. “It’s that coldness,” he says, without looking up. “The way he completely dismisses you? Like you aren’t worth his time?”

Deidara freezes, staring at Sasuke in surprise. “…Yeah. Exactly like that.”

“He does it all the time. Annoying, isn’t it?”

“…He’s your brother.”

“Yeah, he is. That doesn’t mean I can’t think he’s a self-righteous asshole.”

Deidara stares at him with a dumbfounded look. Konan coughs lightly into her sleeve, but it does nothing to conceal the amusement in her amber eyes.

“Huh,” Deidara says. “You know, maybe I misjudged you, baby Uchiha. Maybe you’re not so bad.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Deidara leaves after a few moments, still processing the fact that he was possibly taking a bit of a liking to an Uchiha. Sasuke, overall, doesn’t much care what the blonde missing-nin thinks of him, but he supposes it’s better for his plan if Deidara doesn’t hate him. And it’ll result in less headaches.

“Why does he hate my brother so much?” Sasuke asks, reaching forward to move one of his pawns.

Konan responds immediately with a counter move. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Itachi is the one who forced him into joining the Akatsuki. But even if he didn’t want to at first, I know Deidara is happy here now. So it can’t possibly be just that.”

Konan captures his pawn, taking advantage of an unseen opening. Sasuke scowls.

“Why did you join?” she asks. “Itachi murdered your family, didn’t he? Yet you don’t hate him?”

Sasuke pauses. He remembers his hatred. The way he burned it into his own heart, scorched his own veins. Sliced open his own skin just to keep it burning, those words ringing in his head like the true north of a compass. _Hate me, despise me, kill me…_

He knows the basics of Konan’s own story from Naruto. The death of someone she loved—carried out by his own hand, to protect _her_. Sasuke thinks of Itachi’s lifeless eyes, and he understands. His heart twists with how deeply he understands.

Konan doesn’t know he knows. But…

“My brother planned to die,” Sasuke says quietly. He swallows back the memories. “He was willing to sacrifice himself… to protect me. He loved me enough to give up _everything_.”

Sasuke has a lot of issues with his brother’s actions as a whole—his deceptions, his manipulations. But this one thing cannot be denied: Itachi loved Sasuke enough to lay down his life. To _die_ for him. It’s something that he honors.

Konan inhales slightly. Sasuke knows his words have struck the way he meant them to—have echoed the memory of her fallen friend, the one who died for her just as Itachi died for him.

“I tried hatred. I tried revenge. It doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s just more pain.”

He can feel her gaze on him as he reaches forward to make his move—moving in on her undefended king. He looks up, meeting her amber eyes.

“Sasuke Uchiha,” she says quietly. “You have a mature outlook on the world, for someone so young.”

“Not really,” Sasuke says. His gold general captures her king. “Checkmate.”

* * *

He and Konan play another game. It’s apparent that she was going easy on him in the first match, because this one is much more difficult. It lasts much longer, and each turn is interspaced with lengthy pauses as they seriously study the board.

Konan is pleasant to talk to. Sasuke is surprised when he realizes he actually _likes_ her. It usually takes long periods of exposure to a person before he starts finding them tolerable, let alone enjoyable to spend time with. Sasuke honestly hopes he won’t have to kill her.

Sasuke combs his fingers through his bangs as he attempts to decide his next move, making sure his hair is still covering his Rinnegan. He’s so focused on the pieces in front of him, he doesn’t even sense Itachi’s chakra when he enters the room.

“Checkmate in four,” Itachi says, peering at the board over Sasuke’s shoulder.

Sasuke startles slightly, before looking back at the board. “What? How?”

Itachi is standing at his back, and he leans further over Sasuke’s shoulder to show him, but Konan shoots him a chiding glance. “No one likes a backseat player, Itachi-san.”

Itachi pulls back immediately. “You’re right. Apologies. Besides, I’m confident my brother can beat you without my assistance.”

After another near-half hour, Itachi’s intuition proves to be correct. Sasuke beats Konan a second time. The older woman smiles as she rises.

“Impressive. Good game, Sasuke-kun.”

Only a few people have the honor of calling him by that familiar honorific. Sasuke’s instinctive response is to bristle, before he realizes that he doesn’t actually mind.

He turns to his brother after she leaves. The tension that was between them before has dissipated—the issues that caused it still very much there, but forgotten for the moment.

“Did you talk to Kisame?”

“I did. I didn’t tell him about you, but I told him the truth about the Infinite Tsukuyomi. He’s on our side. He’s agreed to help us.”

Sasuke blinks. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

“I told you he would listen. No one wants the world to end, Sasuke.”

Sasuke thinks about pointing out that the world wouldn’t actually _end_ —just come extremely close to ending, cause a war, and kill hundreds of people before it was narrowly averted. Instead, he begins resetting the pieces on the board.

“Good. Want to play?”

Itachi raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Are you sure? I’ll beat you.”

“Like _hell_ you will.” 

* * *

Itachi beats him. But it’s an extremely long match, and Sasuke manages to impress him.

* * *

It doesn’t make sense, Kakashi thinks. How could his twelve-year-old student kill Orochimaru? _Why_?

Naruto and Sakura are both attempting to walk on water. Kakashi watches from the dock as they repeatedly fall into the lake, soaking themselves from head-to-toe. They’re bickering with each other, but it doesn’t sound the way it should. There’s a voice missing.

Kakashi’s mind is distant, unfocused on the scene in front of him. Somewhere on the other side of the village, the second stage of the Chuunin Exams is starting. Naruto and Sakura are the only genin not participating.

Kakashi planned on enrolling them. But without _Sasuke_ —

His heart twists painfully in his chest. _Failure_ , that heartbeat tells him, repeating over and over like a drum. _You failed, you failed, you failed_.

It’s been a few days since news of Orochimaru’s death reached Konoha. Kakashi still wants to reject what he’s been told—because that intel is _ridiculous_. Sasuke is a tiny little genin, and he’s expected to believe that he murdered one of the _Sannin_? Impossible.

And even if he could, why would he? Does he even know who Orochimaru _is_?

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

“Sensei?”

Kakashi blinks, raising his gaze. Sakura is walking toward him on the surface of the water, her chakra control perfect. Her pink hair hangs limply in her face, her clothes soaked.

“I did it,” she says, but there’s no sense of accomplishment in her voice. She just sounds tired. “Can I be done for the day?”

Kakashi frowns. “…Yes. You can go home.”

Both of his students have been different since Sasuke has left. Naruto has been angry and frustrated—he wants to go after his rival, to chase him down and demand answers, to drag him back home. But no one knows where Sasuke is, and no one is letting him do anything, so he only grows more upset and combative as the days pass.

Sakura, on the other hand, has become listless. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her heartbrokenness is bordering on depression now, and Kakashi doesn’t know how to help her. Not when he can feel those same dark threads in his mind, stronger than they’ve been in a while, trying to drown him in defeat and self-loathing.

_Why did this happen? Could I have stopped it?_

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura says quietly. “Do you think Sasuke-kun’s okay? Wherever he is?”

Kakashi bites the inside of his cheek. He hates the fragile look in her green eyes. He looks past her, toward his other student. Naruto is still struggling, managing to stand on the surface for a few seconds before plunging back underwater.

He can’t let them down. He can’t let _Sasuke_ down.

“I don’t know,” Kakashi says. He reaches forward, placing a solid hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “But I’m going to bring him back, Sakura. I promise.”

* * *

On his second week as a member of the Akatsuki, Pein assigns Sasuke his first mission. An assassination in the Land of Earth.

He’s paired up with Itachi. Not officially, of course; Kisame is still Itachi’s partner. But there’s no other member to put him with, and he can tell that Pein still isn’t sure of his worth. This mission is a test run, and Itachi is tasked with keeping an eye on him. He knows Sasuke, so he’s the best option.

“I think it was Obito’s idea,” Itachi says.

Sasuke frowns. “What was?”

“Pairing us up together. It’s not just a test for you, it’s a test for me. He knows that you must know the truth about me, and he wants to be sure I’m still loyal.”

“He hasn’t tried to talk to you since I got here?”

“Not yet, though I suspect he will soon.”

Kisame steps up to them as the rest of the members leave the meeting. He drapes a heavy arm around Sasuke’s shoulder, taking advantage of his short height to pull him close. “Hey, kid. I see you’re stealing my partner.”

Itachi tenses up protectively the moment the older man touches his younger brother, his eyes flashing. Sasuke shoots him a look of exasperation, and Kisame smirks in amusement.

“Ease up, Itachi-san,” he says. “Put away the claws. I told you, I’m not gonna hurt the kid. I agreed to help, remember?”

Itachi’s shoulders loosen slightly, but his gaze remains sharp. “Don’t talk about that here.”

Sasuke shrugs off the arm around his shoulders, stepping away. Kisame reaches forward to ruffle Sasuke’s hair. “Good luck, kid. Watch his back, okay?”

Sasuke panics slightly as the action causes the curtain of his hair to shift from his face, nearing exposing his left eye. He hurriedly fixes it as Kisame turns away. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to catch the brief flash of purple.

“I told you to cover that better,” Itachi says, frowning.

“Shut up,” Sasuke says with a scowl. “And I told _you_ to stop with the overprotective big brother crap. I’m _older_ than you.”

“I was born first, so you’re still younger.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Whatever. The point is, I’m not actually twelve.”

Sasuke is wearing his black-and-red Akatsuki cloak, just like Itachi. His fingernails are painted a very annoying bright shade of red, though the color has become chipped. He looks strange amongst the Akatsuki—a child amongst adults, despite the fact that Itachi and Deidara are still also very young. But he is, for all intents and purposes, one of them now. Officially.

Deidara hits Sasuke on the shoulder as he passes him on his way to leave the room, though not before shooting a death glare toward Itachi. “Try not to die, brat.”

Itachi blinks. When the blonde is gone, he shoots Sasuke an incredulous look. “Did you make friends with _Deidara_?”

Sasuke shrugs. “Possibly.”

“What did you _do_?”

“We bonded over our mutual hatred of you.”

“…How flattering.”

* * *

Itachi lends him a sword for the mission, since Hidan snapped his previous one in two. It’s a katana, not a chokutō like he’s used to using, but he makes do with it.

The Land of Earth is just north of Amegakure, so it only takes them a few days to travel there. The country is desolate and rocky, and Sasuke hates it there. It’s bordered by a mountain range that cuts it off from most other countries, and hiking over it is exhausting.

They stop to rest in a grotto in the side of a cliff on the second night. Sasuke lays his cloak on the ground to rest on, staring at the picture of their target from a page ripped from Iwa’s Bingo Book. The wind blows outside, sending dirt and rocks into their makeshift shelter.

“You don’t have to do this,” Itachi says.

Sasuke looks up. His bangs are tucked behind his ear, and he can that Itachi finds his Rinnegan slightly unsettling.

“It’s fine,” Sasuke says. “I’ve killed people before. Besides, this woman’s a missing-nin. She’s hardly innocent.”

Itachi doesn’t say anything to that, though his eyes look slightly troubled.

Sasuke drifts off to sleep against the cave wall. When he startles awake halfway through the night from a nightmare he can’t remember, his brother’s cloak has been draped over him like a blanket.

* * *

The next day, they reach the Land of Earth. It doesn’t take them long to find their target, with the comprehensive intel they were given on her movements. Born in the Land of Lightning, Sasuke surprises her when he counters her Raiton-based jutsu with one of his one.

“ _Chidori Senbon_!”

Itachi raises an eyebrow at the variation of Chidori, as flashes of light pin the woman to the ground just as Itachi disarms her. Sasuke doesn’t hit any vital points, but the lightning current causes her body to go numb.

Sasuke steps up to her, drawing his katana.

She is unable to counterattack. She raises her head. “ _Please_ ,” she says, and Sasuke freezes. Her emerald eyes remind him of Sakura.

Itachi notices his hesitation and frowns. “Sasuke…”

Sasuke tightens his grip on the hilt of his blade. He’s killed many people before. This woman is no different. He reminds himself that she’s destined to die, anyway. In a timeline where he never came back, never time-travelled, it would have been another member of the Akatsuki in his place.

But she looks so desperate, staring up at him. And Sasuke realizes she can’t be any older than sixteen. She’s a missing-nin, yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s a horrible person. Sasuke was a missing-nin, and sometimes there are _reasons_ —

“Let me do it,” Itachi says.

Sasuke’s jaw clenches. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know you’re not,” he says quietly. His hand reaches out. “Let me do it, Sasuke.”

Gently, his brother pulls the sword from his hand. Sasuke lets him. The blade flashes through the air, and there’s a shrill scream, and Sasuke turns his head away.

* * *

After the mission is completed, the two Uchiha begin to make their way back to Ame. Once again, they stop to sleep for the night. Itachi doesn’t mention anything about the mission, and Sasuke remains mostly silent.

The fire they’ve built is warm, chasing away the chill of the night air. Crickets chirp and the leaves on the trees rustle. Itachi is asleep on the ground a couple feet away, his Akatsuki cloak beneath him. But Sasuke is wide awake, unable to get his mind to quiet.

He’s bothered by the results of the mission. By the fact that Itachi had to carry it out for him, like he really was some twelve-year-old genin. He should’ve been able to do it himself; he’s killed plenty of people in his life, and he hasn’t hesitated. Some of them—the majority of them—were completely innocent.

But maybe that was the problem, Sasuke thinks. In the two years after the war, he killed many people in order to protect and defend Konoha. But the taking of those lives were completely different from the ones he took when on his quest for vengeance—the people he cut through just for standing in his way.

He promised himself he would never be that person again. He hates that person. But now, once again dressed as a member of the Akatsuki, he feels closer to that person than ever. To that time after Itachi’s death, when his grief and anger threatened to burn up the world.

Sasuke will not hesitate to take a life when it is necessary. But to do it while wearing the Akatsuki’s colors—it feels too much like that boy he used to be. It feels _wrong_.

 _So you made your brother do it instead,_ Sasuke thinks with a sigh. He turns his head toward Itachi.

He’s never seen Itachi sleep, Sasuke realizes. Or if he has, it’s a childhood memory that has long since faded. Sasuke’s heart twists as he looks at him, because with the fire casting a glow on his face, Itachi seems so young. He _is_ young, and it’s so easy to forget by the way he moves and speaks.

He’s _seventeen_.

Despite being mentally nineteen, Sasuke still feels younger than Itachi. He’s used to being the younger brother, falls into that role when he’s around him. But for a brief moment, staring at his brother’s face, softened in sleep, Sasuke feels older.

Sasuke pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees. It’s still strange, for his body to be so small. It’s still strange having both arms to move. Sasuke closes his eyes, letting the heat of the fire warm him.

After a bit of time passes, Sasuke hears a slight noise. His eyes snap open.

Itachi has tensed slightly, his eyes still closed. There’s a pinch to his mouth, and his hand is twisted into his cloak. Sasuke realizes that the soft sound he heard was a cut-off whimper. His brother is having a nightmare.

Sasuke freezes on the other side of the fire, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t know how to handle his teammates when they have a nightmare, how is he meant to handle Itachi having one? He’s never…

Sasuke holds his breath for a moment, hoping Itachi will relax on his own. But his muscles remain tense and coiled. He doesn’t make any more noises of distress, but Sasuke doesn’t know if that means the dream isn’t that bad or if he’s just used to keeping himself quiet. He’s very still, none of the tossing and turning that usually accompanies a nightmare.

Sasuke stands up and moves around the fire, kneeling down next to his brother’s head. Itachi’s ponytail is half falling out, strands of hair falling into his face. Slowly, Sasuke reaches out a hand. He knows better than to try and shake him, instead lightly touching his shoulder.

“Nii-san? Nii-san, wake up.”

Itachi doesn’t startle awake the way Sasuke feared he would. His eyebrows furrow, and then he opens his eyes. He wakes up calmly, unlike Sasuke, who has nearly slit his teammates’ throats with a kunai on multiple occasions when they’ve tried to wake him.

It’s an instinctive response for most shinobi. But Itachi’s such a master at control, of course he’s trained himself out of that reflex.

“You okay?” Sasuke asks with a frown, as Itachi pushes himself up.

Itachi is instantly put together, completely aware and masking any signs of distress. “Fine. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“I was already awake.”

Itachi nods. An awkward silence falls between them, interrupted only by the chirp of crickets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Sasuke asks hesitantly.

In Itachi’s place, Sasuke knows the answer would be a firm _no_. He’s entirely too used to Naruto and Sakura trying to get him to talk, to open his mouth and express his feelings—as if that will somehow help him instead of just tearing the wound open more and making him bleed.

Itachi is a lot like that, too. He keeps everything inside him, because it’s the way he’s always lived. But this tension has been between them since Sasuke came back, and it’s starting to feel suffocating.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Itachi asks quietly.

Sasuke’s eyes widen. “What?”

Itachi sighs. There’s reluctance on his face, but it’s too late to retract the words. The conversation is happening now, no more avoiding and skirting around their issues.

“Your memories,” he says. “What you… showed me when you got here. I know you didn’t mean for me to see it, but I did. And I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it—”

Sasuke’s throat tightens, reminiscent of his brother’s hand wrapped around it. “Itachi—”

“What I did to you… what I was going to do to you… I _felt_ it. Sasuke… if I could take it back…”

There’s a pressure on Sasuke’s chest. He takes a shaky breath, scooting forward slightly. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but he knows that he doesn’t like the recrimination in his older brother’s voice. It doesn’t feel right.

“Itachi… you didn’t do any of that.”

“But I would have. I _planned_ to. And you… it still happened to you, regardless if I haven’t—”

Sasuke holds up a hand. “Nii-san, _stop_.”

Itachi closes his mouth. Sasuke shifts slightly on the hard ground, giving himself a moment to think before speaking.

“Look… I understand what you’re talking about. I won’t deny how much you’ve hurt me. I won’t deny that I spent a long time being angry. But those memories that you saw… that you _felt_ … they happened years ago, Itachi. I’ve had time to work through them and come to terms with them.”

Itachi frowns. “But I…”

“You hurt me. Terribly. But I understand your reasons. Not having you with me… that’s the part that hurts the most now.”

Itachi’s eyes are pained. Sasuke sighs at his expression, leaning forward. For the second time since he came back—the second time in _twelve_ _years_ —he embraces his brother. He wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“I forgive you,” Sasuke says. “I’m _choosing_ to forgive you. It’s my decision, and you don’t get to make it for me.”

Hesitantly. Itachi’s arms come up to hug him back. “That’s way more than I deserve.”

“Probably. But I’m doing it anyway. Deal with it.”

Itachi huffs slightly. He pulls back, tugging gently on the end of Sasuke’s hair. A familiar gesture he used to do when they were children to make him smile. “Well, if I must.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, batting the hand away. But there’s a warmth in his chest that pulls at his lips.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Sarutobi asks.

“I’m sure,” Kakashi says.

The two of them are standing at Konoha’s gates, and Kakashi us dressed in his usual jounin uniform. The Hokage is in his official robes, his hat shielding his face from the piercing rays of the sun.

“I’ve sent squads after him,” the Sandaime says. “There’s been no trace of him. What makes you think your luck will be any better?”

“I don’t. But he’s my student. I have to try.”

Sarutobi stares at him for a long moment. Finally, he inclines his head. “Very well. I will make sure your other two students are looked after in the meantime. Good luck, Kakashi.”

Kakashi nods in farewell. He turns away, facing the open gates and taking his first steps out of the village. At his hip, a scratched-out hitai-ate is hanging.

_I’m coming, Sasuke. Wherever you are… I’ll bring you home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't remember much about Konan's character, so im sorry if she's out of character here. However, the next chapter is going to have a lot more of both her and Pein, so I plan to rewatch the Pein invasion arc so that I can write them both more confidently.


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